


Project N: Unexpected Results

by GwooWowarr



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Action, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Medical Trauma, Mentor/Sidekick, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 70,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwooWowarr/pseuds/GwooWowarr
Summary: One of Viktor's current augmentation projects, labeled simply as "N", has been going smoothly. Prototype 11 was stable enough that he was willing enough to try it on a living subject. All that remained was for him to find someone desperate enough to test it, which was not difficult in the filthy streets of Zaun. In the sump he found him, a boy on death's door who was more than willing to accept Viktor's offer. And that is when project N took its unexpected turn.Originally published on Fanfic.net on 11/10/2017
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Viktor strode through the worst of Zaun’s alleys in search of specimens to research. Few volunteered to be human guinea pigs for experimental grafts and proper scientific cadavers were expensive, but the slums of Zaun always had a corpse to offer if you knew where to look. Nobody objected to his collecting of the unwanted dead. Viktor had always viewed it as a service to the city.

A stench strong enough to penetrate his mask struck Viktor. He rounded a corner and found the source of the smell, a bloated, dead rat nearly as large as Twitch. Even if it had been human, its body was too far decayed to have had been useful. Its ribcage was poking through flesh that looked like it would slough off at the slightest touch and rats of normal size were already beginning to eat it.

Viktor sighed with disgust and continued his search around a notorious drug den. These bodies were not ideal, as the chemicals filling them made for poor controls, but this house seemed to regularly produce a corpse every week, either through overdose or murder.

As he approached, his third arm twitched alert. Viktor had been attacked by a junkie once before. The scorch mark he reduced the man to as was more than enough to deter future attacks. At the house shifty individuals dealt openly and unabashedly as a yordle with clumps of fur missing stumbled about in a stupor, but again, there was no corpse to claim.

The excursion was proving to be fruitless and, at length, Viktor decided to retire. He still had a preserved leg that could be useful for one more experiment, maybe. So enveloped in his thoughts was Viktor, that he almost tripped over a small, slumped body. A smile nobody could see stirred below his mask as he knelt to examine his find.

_Human, male, not even two decades old. Filthy. Limbs are skeletal thin, likely died of starvation. Appears freshly dead, but there is a smell of rot. Check for it._

Viktor lifted the threadbare shirt and his smile quickly turned into a scowl. Though shallow, the kid was breathing. Viktor looked up the kid’s face and found that he had opened his eyes.

_Little focus in gaze. He will be dead in days. Return later._

A tug at his cape prevented him from leaving. Viktor’s third was first to react, spinning around and aiming at the kid. The laser in the palm glowed an angry color as it was primed. Viktor leered down at the kid, expecting that this display would be enough to scare him off, but the kid didn’t loosen his grip. He only stared back at him.

“Please help.” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

Viktor kicked his hand away and turned to leave, but again he was stopped. The kid fell over and grabbed Viktor’s ankle.

“Please,” he repeated, “help me. You’re Viktor, you can do something.”

This had Viktor pausing. He was not surprised that his name was known to the kid, but that he still petitioned for help despite knowing who he was.

“And what makes you think I can help you?” Viktor asked.

The kid reached down and pulled up the sleeve of his pants. There was the source of the rot.

_Leg is mangled. Deep scars. Injury from machinery. Limb healed at crooked angle. Foot is wrong. Big toe is missing. Tear continues up to the ankle. Tissue there is black, necrotic. No maggots. Surprising._

“You can help me,” the kid said, “you can build me a new leg.”

“You think I would do this?” Viktor asked.

“I don’t know.”

The kid’s expression said it all.

_Desperate._

“Your guardians, where are they?” Viktor asked,

“Dead,” the kid responded, “plague took my dad and chemicals took mum.”

Viktor pondered the situation.

“Without them, how do you plan to pay for your new limb?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but I promise after I’m walking again I’ll get a job. I’ll pay you back, with interest, you’ll see, I promise.”

“Your plan is unreliable. You could try and run from me or die before your debt is paid. I propose a different solution.”

Viktor had the kid’s full attention.

“I will create new limbs for you and not charge you for expenses, but in exchange, you will allow me to install experimental limbs onto you.”

“Yes.”

_No hesitation._

“Now come with me.”

The kid struggled to his feet, clutching a homemade crutch. He only managed to remain upright for a few moments before collapsing again. Still, he continued to crawl towards Viktor.

Viktor scowled. Such displays were only a testament to the weakness of flesh. He pulled the kid back to his feet and supported him against his body. With his third hand, he pulled at the collar of the kid’s shirt to keep his head from lolling against him.

“The sooner I get you back, the sooner you can stand alone.”

The kid nodded and, with a shaking leg, took a step to a new life.


	2. Chapter 2

Viktor’s lab was tucked away at the edge of Zaun’s Entresol Level. At one time, the building had been a factory used to manufacture zeppelin parts, but after a poor display during the Festival of Flight, the company producing the parts went under and the factory was closed. Viktor had been all too eager to move in, making use of the abandoned machinery to create mechanical wonders and horrors alike. It was an improvement upon his old lab which, Piltover’s Jayce had trespassed upon, destroyed his machines, and shattered the faith of his acolytes, all in the name of prolonging humanity’s crawl towards Evolution. As futile as Jayce’s action ultimately would be, they did leave Viktor’s efforts in a weakened state and with a ruined laboratory full of machines he did not have the funds to repair. Moving into the abandoned factory was the financially sound choice.  
Viktor’s footsteps echoed throughout the all-but-empty building, announcing his presence to the automatons that shared the building with Viktor. Two approached Viktor and bowed stiffly at the hip as a greeting. They were human in shape and size with steel instead of skin and a whirling of gears to replace the sound of breathing. Their faces were bronze, taken from a statue of a happy couple relaxing in a zeppelin’s lounge that had once adorned the outside of the building.  
“Take this to the operating room,” Viktor ordered them as he handed the kid over, “I will be there shortly.”  
In his private rooms, Viktor removed his clothing to be steamed and cleansed of the stench of the slums. He would need something sterile if he were to operate. He donned a customary white coat and set to the meticulous task of disinfecting his hands. Piece by piece he cleaned his hand with alcohol and scraped any grime from the joints. Only after a dozen minutes of cleansing did he feel that he had removed all contaminants from his hands. Now it was time to sully them again with the operation.  
In the operating room, the kid was already laying down on the table. As exhausted as he was from the walk here, he was more alert now than he had been the entire day. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the machinery, his ears caught every little beep, and his nose was filled with the scent of sterility. The room was clean, secure, but held an uncomfortable air of anticipation within it.  
The abrupt sound of Viktor’s entrance startled him and he attempted to lurch upwards as fast as he could. But in his weakened state, he was able to do little more than shakily prop himself up on his elbows.  
“You are awake,” Viktor said, “good. I need to ask you questions.”  
Viktor went over to a cabinet and unlocked it to reveal a wide variety of medicinal chemicals.  
“Do you have any allergies to medicine?”  
“None that I know of.” the kid said.  
“And have you eaten anything within the last day?”  
“No.”  
Viktor nodded and pulled a jar from the cabinet. He placed it on a tray beside as syringe and began to gather the other tools he would need. The kid watched and felt a knot begin to form in his stomach. This surgery was what he needed, but the thought of scalpels carving into him still left him anxious.  
“Remove your pants.” Viktor said.  
He brought his tray over and prepared an IV.  
“Is that it?” the kid asked, “No other questions?”  
“I will ask them if you survive. Remove your pants.”  
“Don’t patients usually get to ask some questions?”  
“You are not my patient, you are my investment. Remove your pants or I will cut them off.”  
Viktor’s words were not aggressive. He spoke in a matter of fact matter that let the kid know that he was not to be taken lightly.  
“Lay back.” Viktor ordered as the kid, with all the grace of a beached whale, pulled off his pants to expose the damaged flesh.  
Viktor brought a mask to the kid’s face.  
“Take a deep breath and relax.”  
For a moment, the kid’s face was struck with an expression of panic as if the thought of losing his limb was too much, but he didn’t fight the mask at his mouth and did as he was told. He felt the needle slip into his skin and his eyelids grew heavy. Viktor’s voice was the last thing he recalled before consciousness slipped from him.  
“You won’t feel a thing.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Breathing is steady. Heart rate slowed. No adverse reactions to medication. Begin transtibial amputation._  
With the kid blissfully in the folds of the anesthetic, Viktor examined the damaged right leg. It was worse than his initial glance had suggested. The necrotic tissue had extended up past the ankle on the posterior side of his shin. The black skin was beginning to shrivel and release a stench of rot. A few more days untreated and the infection alone could have killed the kid.  
Viktor brought over sterilized towels and began to clean the wound. Soon the stench of alcohol overpowered that of rot and wisped its way through Viktor’s mask. He did not care though. It was preferable to the rankness of Zaun’s slums.  
Towels and swabs piled up until he was satisfied with the cleanliness of the limb. Viktor examined the dead tissue. He cut lightly into the flesh around the wound to see if the necrosis continued further beneath the skin.  
_Necrotic flesh continues to7.62 centimeters distal to the knee. Length is shorter than optimal for prosthetic. The challenge will be beneficial for your mind._  
Viktor gave the vital monitors a final read before cutting into the flesh proper. Skin gave way easily to the cut of his scalpel, creating thin lines of red where it went. Each cut was planned to ensure optimal scar formation away from where the connection sockets of the new limb would be.  
With a practiced hand, Viktor peeled back the flesh as though it were a sleeve of clothing and began to cut the muscles. He had performed this procedure twice on himself, and with less ideal circumstances. This was easy.  
_Cut nerves further back to prevent pain at stump base. Tie off blood vessels. Leave extra muscles for flaps. Stump will need cushioning for prosthetic._  
The first challenge came when he reached the bone. The bent shape of the limb did not fully describe the extent of the damage on the bone. It appeared as though the limb had been caught between two gears, crushing the bone between them. Now a mess was what was left, with the bone healing at an awkward angle, jagged edges, and even several small shards of bone embedded in the surround muscles.  
_Remove splinters first. Find clean location to saw bone. Smooth remaining jagged ends. Wrap in muscle._  
It was at moments like this that Viktor knew without shadow of a doubt that steel was superior to flesh. He need not fear an involuntary twitch of muscle that would cause harm to the limb, nor did he have to worry about his hand being jarred as the saw cut into the tibial or fibular bone. His mechanical hand was steady and helped guide the saw through the bone for a clean cut.  
Step by step, Viktor removed the offending limb until a bloody, but healthy stump was left. He wrapped the end of the stump the remaining muscle mass and stitched it shut. Viktor examined his handiwork and was pleased with himself. Careful as to not upset the draining tubes he had in place, he slid a sock over the stump to help it heal. This operation was finished.  
Viktor sat in a chair and took a moment to examine the rest of the boy. The streets had not been kind to him.  
_Scars on arms. Possibly from scrap metal. Sores from lying motionless. Fresh. Recent wounds. One appears infected. Ribs showing for malnourishment. Hair falling out, also from malnourishment. Discolored skin on face, side effect of Shimmer. Nails are uneven. Tattoo of fire on right arm. Tacky._  
It did not take Viktor long to decide that he was far from done with his work on the kid. With a small sigh, Viktor got back on his feet and back to work. He cleaned each sore, drained the infected wound, trimmed his nails even, and washed the body where he could. He even removed a hairy mole from the kid’s stomach that he had grown tired of looking at during the amputation. This project had ended up being longer than the procedure he had originally intended to perform, but if his experiment was to be tested, the kid would need to survive and recover to a point that his body could handle the new prosthetic. It would take days.  
For now, Viktor had done what he could. He cleaned his workspace and strapped the kid down to the table so he wouldn’t attempt to touch his stump when he awoke. The vital reports were synched to a feed on his mask and the IVs were properly in place. Waiting was all that was left. Viktor switched off the lights to the operating room and returned to his private chambers with the intention to plan out the kid’s new limb.


	4. Chapter 4

The kid groaned as he came around. His back was stiff, his mouth dry, his eyelids heavy, and his nose itched. He raised his hand to scratch his nose when his wrists tugged against the straps. Stuck! Panic shot through him as he tugged at the straps and looked around. The room hadn’t changed, but there were far more tubes sticking out of him than he remembered. He craned his neck as far as he could to look at his leg. The vital monitors began to beep as his heartrate increased.

Moments later, Viktor entered the room. He strode over to the kid and looked down at him.

“You are finally awake,” he said.

At the sight of Viktor, the kid calmed.

“Yes, I am,” he said, “can you please untie me, I could really use a stretch.”

“I will unstrap you, but I would not recommend more than sitting up. Your body is weak from being asleep for three days,” Viktor said.

“Three days?”

“Your body was exceedingly weak after the surgery. I allowed it rest and it has been healing at a steady rate.”

“Can I see it?”

Viktor nodded and removed the straps on the kid’s wrists. He grabbed the kid’s arm and helped him to sit up so he wouldn’t disturb the IVs he was hooked up to. The kid’s eyes grew wide as he looked down at the sock around his stump. He was silent for a minute.

“So it’s really gone then,” he finally said.

“Removed and properly incinerated,” Viktor answered.

The kid reached down to touch it but Viktor grabbed his wrist.

“Do not touch it,” Viktor ordered, “It still needs time to heal. If you do anything with it today it will be light stretching and only under my supervision. Fail to comply and I will strap you down again. Is that clear?”

“Yes. Crystal.”

The kid’s stomach growled.

“You have been fed intravenously the last few days,” Viktor said, “I will fetch you food. Do not touch your tubes.”

“Thank you.”

Viktor left without a response. He returned minutes later flanked by his automatons. One carried a shirt as plain and sterile as the room and the other carried a hot bowel of soup. Viktor pushed the tray table to rest over the kid’s lap before sitting down in a chair and opening a well-worn journal.

“Your stomach isn’t strong enough for solid food.” Viktor explained as he motioned for the automaton to give him the soup, “Eat slowly, and while you eat you will answer my questions.”

The kid nodded as he tore into his food uncaring of how it scalded his tongue.

“I have recorded most of your vital information; sex, height, weight, blood type. What is your age?” Viktor asked.

“Sixteen.”

“How long had you been living on the streets?”

“A year.”

“Your face shows signs of Shimmer. When was your last exposure and have you been using other narcotics?”

“I haven’t been able to afford food, never mind Shimmer. I only ever did Shimmer and it’s been weeks since I’ve used it.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I don’t know, seven weeks I think.”

“Are you carrying any diseases?”

“What? No, none.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“Sunflower seeds, but that’s it.”

“Outside of what I have treated, are there other injuries that may hamper your ability to accept a prosthetic?”

“None that I know of.”

“That answer will have to suffice. Lastly, is there any other medical condition you have that I should know about?”

“No.”

Viktor finished his writing, closed his journal, and turned to leave.

“I will return later,” he said, “if your need is dire, you may send the automatons to find me.”

“Wait, that’s it? That’s all the information you consider vital?” the kid asked.

“Is there other information you deem vital for your success?”

“My name, perhaps?”

“Your name is irrelevant. Your designation in my notes is N-12.”

“N-12? That’s just a letter and number, it’s not the same as a name.”

“Correct. Names can be shared by individuals, while you are the only, and will be the only, N-12 in my records. If you have any important information, speak now, I have other matters to attend to.”

“It’s Ren, by the way. Renatus.”

“Eat and rest, N-12. I shall return later."

Ren said nothing and Viktor departed.


	5. Chapter 5

Viktor returned with Ren’s new leg.

“This is it?” Ren asked as he was presented with the prosthetic.

“You must relearn to walk before I construct you a proper limb,” Viktor said, “until then, this wooden one will aid you.”

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but this wasn’t what I had in mind when I knew a master of robotics would be making me a new leg.”

“And your behavior is not what I had in mind for someone who had their life saved by an act of generosity. Don’t move your leg. I need to make sure the prosthetic fits.”

Viktor slid gloves over his fingers before peeling back the sock on Ren’s stump. The stump, as well as the inside of the sock, was slick from drainage of the wound. Viktor tossed the sock aside for it to be washed.

“Is that normal?” Ren asked, “All that blood?”

“The blood and swelling are normal. Most of the discharge is clear. Your wound is healing at an average rate,” Viktor answered.

_Swelling reduced exponentially since surgery. Could remove drain to promote healing. The sooner the wound is healed, the sooner the prototype can be attached. Will remove drain._

Ren watched silently. His mind buzzed with questions, but he couldn’t get his mouth to ask any of them. It was one thing to see his stump in a sock, another to see it without the sock, and another thing entirely to see a man poking around it with sharp objects. No question was worth distracting Viktor for. The thought of a misplaced jab had Ren preemptively flinching.

“Do not move,” Viktor repeated, “this next part will hurt, so if you must, grip the table, but do not move your leg.”

Ren nodded and closed his eyes in hopes that it would hurt less if he didn’t see it. He gasped as he felt Viktor slide the drain out and he knew he was wrong. It still hurt like someone was pulling the world’s largest splinter from his leg. Ren’s clenched his teeth and held the table in a white-knuckled grip until he felt the last of the drain slide from him.

“You performed better than expected, N-12.” Viktor said.

“Thank you?” Ren said as he opened his eyes again.

Viktor cleaned the wound and moved the prosthetic up to the stump.

_Made prosthetic too large, will need extra sock for cushion and to fill space. Amend this for metal prototype. Prosthetic will fit, temporary anyways. Body almost ready for new limb. Keep it in clean socks until then._

“You will be on your feet in two days, N-12.” Viktor said, “I will give you stretches that you are to perform.”

Viktor grabbed Ren’s thigh and gently lifted it.

“You will lift yours legs three inches and hold it there for 5 seconds. You will then move it to the left and hold it for another 5 seconds, then the right and hold, and then center and hold. You will do this every hour.”

He placed Ren’s leg back down.

“Do you have any questions, N-12?”

“About the stretches, no, that’s all crystal,” Ren said, “but Ren does have a question to what kind of leg Ren will be getting later?”

“N-12 will receive a leg with a prototype for mobility enhancements,” Viktor said, “My legs currently operate at above average human performance. However, my work puts me in contact with those whose bodies operate at far above average human efficiency. I will continue to improve my limbs until they surpass even their abnormal bodies.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“It is an inevitability.”

“Is it? I have no doubt that you already surpassed most humans, but all humans? That’s a lot of people, and some of them get their power from ancient magics. And what about those-“

“It _is_ an inevitability. And it is one you will be helping me to achieve, N-12.”

Viktor’s organic fist clenched and Ren shut his mouth. The sudden urge to back away crept up his back, but he never needed to act on it. Viktor relaxed his hand and turned away.

“Sleep. Early tomorrow your rehabilitation will begin.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Day two of rehabilitation. N-12’s body is ready for the prosthetic. Subject’s morale is high. N-12 will be more likely to repeat beneficial tasks. Stump has been prepared. Ready to begin._

Viktor sat down next to Ren and presented the prosthetic.

“Observe closely,” he said, “I will only demonstrate how to put it on once.”

Ren nodded and watched.

“This is your liner; it has a pin in the bottom.”

Viktor passed Ren another sock like cloth, although this one was made of a much thicker material. At its end was the pin, a metal peg sticking out of a disc that would fit into the socket of the prosthetic. Viktor had Ren turn the liner inside out and place his stub against the disc the liner before pulling it on. Ren lifted his leg and smirked at the little pin sticking out the bottom.

“This must be the world’s smallest peg leg,” Ren said, “I didn’t know you catered to Yordle pirates.”

“Focus N-12.”

“It was only a joke.”

“It was a waste of my time.”

“What? A second?”

“4.48 seconds. Pay attention. For you limb to fit, you will need to wear an extra pair of socks. Put them on.”

Ren pulled up a sock with a hole in it. For a moment he considered commenting on the vast number of socks Viktor possessed, but he withheld it for now. Such remarks were better made when one could run if necessary.

“Slide the pin into the slot in the socket,” Viktor said, “then push until you hear a click.”

He placed the prosthetic up to the pin and guided it in. He pushed it up against Ren, who pushed back in turn. There was a click and Ren stopped moving. He looked down at his new limb and he found that staring at it did not fill him with dread or revulsion. Instead, his heart felt like it was plunged in ice and was trembling from the cold.

“Stand, N-12.”

Ren took a breath and swung his legs over the side of the table. Looking down at the ground, it seemed twice as far as he expected it to be. He closed his eyes and steadily lowered himself to the ground. The cold floor greeted his organic toes and, with the clap of wood on floor, his prosthetic touched ground. He pushed forward from the table he was leaning on and immediately felt his legs quiver and give way. He caught himself against the table.

“A crutch will prove beneficial at this stage,” Viktor said, “Remain still and-“

Ren raised his hand to stop Viktor as he steadied his legs. He shifted his weight to his organic leg, letting it remember how to hold weight, and then he placed the slightest amount on his new leg. His knees began to shake again, but he gripped the table tightly until the feeling passed. Then he pushed off again. He looked down at his legs, at the joint between flesh and wood, at his wriggling toes, at the cold floor. And then he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. The ice that had gripped his heart melted and it was replaced by a red hot thumping.

“I’m! Viktor, I’m standing!” Ren laughed.

He was so wrapped in his exuberance that his mind forgot all fatigue, but his body did not, and he soon found himself losing his balance again. Viktor caught him and thrust the crutch into his hands.

“Your form is still too weak to stand alone for long,” Viktor said, “Practice on the bars first.”

Viktor led Ren over to where he had set up a set of parallel railings for him to hold as he regained his balance.

“Practice standing for now. Do not take a step until you know how balance your weight.” He instructed.

Ren nodded and threw down the crutch for the railings in a heartbeat. With hands steadying him on either side, he began to shift the weight between his legs to experiment with what was comfortable. Viktor sat back down in his chair and observed.

_Prosthetic fits with two extra socks. Will make adjustment for final limb. Other than socket, measurements were correct. Lack of balance due to muscle fatigue, not poor craftsmanship. N-12’s spirit remains high, if not enhanced. He would likely continue to practice until he passed out. Cannot allow that. Could cause more harm than good. Possibly need to restrain him for night. Decide later based on behavior. Observe now._

“Can you balance your weight?” Viktor asked.

Ren nodded.

“Take a step, N-12.”

Ren gripped the bars and stepped forward with his organic leg first before moving his new one behind him. Step by step, his stiff gait moved him down the rails. Ache engulfed his limbs, but he only smiled at this. He had achieved a goal.

“Again,” Viktor said, “continue until your muscles feel as though they will tear, then rest.”

“No way,” Ren said, “I’m walking till then, then I’m walking more. I’ll be going till I sleep, and then maybe even sleep walk.”

_Restraints will be needed._


	7. Chapter 7

Ren trailed after Viktor with all the speed his lurching gait allowed.

_Step. Tap. Clunk._

His uneven steps echoed down the hall.

“Appreciate you giving me my own room,” Ren said, “I was almost convinced you’d keep me in that operating room forever.”

“No, that room may be needed again and your continued presence would rend it unsanitary,” Viktor responded.

“Still,” Ren said, “appreciate it all the same.”

The automatons were waiting outside a door.

“This will be your room.” Viktor said as he unlocked the door.

“Thanks,” Ren replied as he stepped up to it, “so do scientists usually keep guest rooms, or are you a special case.”

Viktor pushed open the door.

“We don’t.”

The smile on Ren’s face withered.

“Oh, it’s a closet,” he said.

The small room was packed with boxes. The stacks were eyelevel with Ren and formed a maze through the room to get to the small cot in the corner that was to serve as his bed. Beside it was a wooden crate with “N-12” printed on it.

“You gave me my own cubie all personalized. That’s cute,” Ren said as he scraped for something positive to say.

His eyes scanned the concrete walls and floor as he chewed his lip. He had little doubt that after one night in here and he believed he would miss the comforts of the operating table.

“The automatons will assist you in clearing out the boxes.” Viktor said, “They will follow simple commands. Direct them to bring the boxes outside and line them up against the wall.”

“You’re not staying to help?” Ren asked.

“The automatons should provide suitable assistance.”

“So you’re leaving a lame kid to do heavy lifting?”

“I’ve said it twice already, N-12, the automatons will assist you, or were you expecting me to busy my hands with menial grunt work such as this?”

“When you put it that way it makes me sound foolish for wanting to spend some time with the guy who’s gonna strap some experimental tech on me and for trying to learn more about it that tech.”

“Information will be disclosed when your leg is completed. Until it is completed, all I can do it provide speculations about performance. It would be a waste of time to share such speculations with someone who is unable to provide educated feedback.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“You basic intelligence is not a factor, your technical knowledge about robotics and human anatomy is.”

“I have some mechanical knowledge. I am from Zaun, aren’t I?”

“As am I. The difference between us is that while I have spent years studding at our city’s top university, you have spent years clinging to life on the streets.”

“Living out there requires its own ingenuity. You learned in a big building and I learned on the streets. One isn’t better than the other.”

“You would be dead if I hadn’t found you! You should be grateful for what I give you and not demand more!”

Viktor took a breath. His hands had clenched without his noticing and he was in danger of falling prey to the wild beast known as human emotion.

“I will no longer entertain this idea.” he said, “clean your room, N-12.”

Without further word, Viktor departed at a pace he knew Ren would not be able to match.

_Ungrateful whelp. Would be dead without me. Should be groveling at my feet. Should be grateful for everything. Should be- No. Control emotions. Think rationally. N-12 is young and brash. He will learn respect in time. He will learn. Will install precautionary features in leg to ensure obedience. Advantage is held by the prepared._

Viktor strode into his personal workshop and locked the door behind him. On his table sat Ren’s new augmentation. Viktor sat down and began to modify the limb. He switched on an overhead light and adjusted the magnification in his mask so that he could see the delicate work at hand. Each piece of the limb passed under his gaze as he checked for the dull shine given off by the protective sealant, any scratches that could become home for rust, and rough spots that would decrease aerodynamics. Everything had to be perfect, and perfection was an all-consuming task that Viktor was more than happy to let envelope all his attention.

Satisfied with the cleanliness of the prosthetic, he was ready to give it its power source. Viktor held the source before him. It was a small hextech crystal similar to the one in his staff. These jewels had served him as the beautiful union of science and magic for years, and they would continue to do so until he found something more efficient. Magic was too unpredictable to be dependent on forever. Viktor inserted the hex core into the prosthetic and connected it.

There was a low hum and a soft purple light began to shine from the core. The limb had low power now. It had enough to ensure that N-12 would be able to run and leap above the average human, but it would not be anywhere close to the potential of the limb. After all, this was not simply a healing tool for a child, but a weapon for the Evolution. If N-12 showed that he was capable of being trusted then Viktor would increase the potency of the core, but until then, his power would be kept at an easily containable level.

Minutes fell away and became hours. At length, Viktor decided that the prosthetic was as ready for Ren as it could and he put the limb away for the night. He looked over to the clock. 1 o’clock. He stood with a stretch, dissatisfied with how his muscles were stiff, and left his workroom with the click of a key in the lock. He walked backed to Ren’s room to check on the boy one more time.

Ren and the automatons had cleared most of boxes, lining the hallway with the musty cardboard. The automatons stood vigilantly outside the door as Viktor walked in. Ren was fast asleep on the cot. He had fallen asleep without bothering to remove his clothing or his prosthetic. Viktor took one look at this and frowned. He bent down next to Ren and began to remove the prosthetic himself. Briefly, he considered waking Ren up to do it himself, but he was tired and the fastest way to sleep was to ensure Ren stayed there. Carefully, the leg came off and Viktor placed on the bedside table with the sock. Ren’s stump stretched as Viktor removed his hands and Ren let out a contented sigh.

Viktor gave Ren one last look before leaving the room. He softly closed the door and locked it.

_Soon. A few more days and N-12 will know the power of my Glorious Evolution. He will feel it. He will be loyal to it. And I will no longer have to play warden. Soon._


	8. Chapter 8

The ringing of his alarm clock throbbed dully through Viktor’s head. It was 9 o’clock. He had been sleeping for 7 ½ hours, longer than usual, but the addition of Ren had produced a strain he was not expecting on him, both physically and mentally.

Viktor pulled himself upwards and began to put himself together, piece by piece. First was his arm, then his legs, followed by his third arm and auxiliary power supply, and lastly, his mask.

Viktor washed his face and attended to any other personal hygiene that needed to be done that morning. This routine would almost be considered normal, if one of the steps didn’t include polishing the various sockets on his face with protective oil. As often as Viktor did this, he was always a little surprised by the reflection in the mirror. He hardly looked like the man he was years ago. He likely would not have even known this was himself if he weren’t looking in the mirror. That face wasn’t wearing his mask.

Finally, he completed himself as he felt the mask snap into place on his head. He gave it a precautionary tug to ensure that it was firmly secured in the sockets.

_Satisfactory_

He clothed himself and departed to make breakfast. It was the same routine he had been in for days, only now he had to make an extra serving for Ren. But aside from that, it was the same meal; same fruit, milk, and cricket flour blended together to make a smoothie. It was the most important mal of the day in the most efficient way possible. It only took minutes to prepare and could be consumed on the go through a straw.

He poured the two smoothies and went to go wake Ren if he hadn’t already woken up. He finished his breakfast before he arrived at the door and placed the empty glass into the hands of one of the guarding automatons. The door unlocked and Viktor pushed it aside.

Ren was sitting on his cot with a pad of paper in his lap. He was sketching in the old pad, only putting it down when Viktor walked in.

“Good morning,” Ren said, “I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me.”

“Not likely,” Viktor replied, “you are too valuable to abandon.”

“That’s comforting to know at least, but I gotta know, why’d you lock me in here?”

“As I said, you are valuable, I will not risk you wandering and injuring yourself on unknown equipment.”

“Or wandering off?”

“That as well, although you would not have been able to evade me for long if you did. You are still growing accustom to your new leg.”

“Sure am. I can put it on and off without your help now. I paced this morning. I know it’s in there good. I’m learning to take care of myself. You don’t need to keep me as a prisoner.”

“You are not being treated as a prisoner, you are being treated as a patient. If you were a prisoner I would not be as invested in your health. I am as controlling as a well-trained doctor should be.”

Viktor handed Ren his breakfast.

“Drink.”

Ren put his sketchpad aside and had his breakfast. Viktor looked over at it. The pad was old, likely uncovered from one of the boxes. Viktor was genuinely surprised by the quality of the drawing and he picked it up to better examine it. Ren had drawn a realistic still life of his prosthetic, capturing a fair amount of detail and texture in his sketch. Viktor turned the page, expecting more images like it, but was met with disappointment as every other sketch was a quick doodle of what Ren imagined his robotic limb would be. The last one was titled “Neo-Mega-Leg: Flame Strike,” and showed an elated Ren running with an oversized leg with spikes protruding from the toes and knees and more tacky flames painted down its side. Viktor put the pad down.

“They’re pretty sweet, aren’t they?” Ren asked, “Is mine gonna look anything like them?”

“No.” Viktor said.

“Not even Flame Strike?”

“Absolutely not. What I made is better than it.”

Viktor watched Ren put aside his empty glass.

“You are ready then, let us go.” Viktor said.

Ren nodded, grabbed his crutch, and followed Viktor to his training room. This gym lacked many of the traditional methods for strength training, but housed a variety of tools to help improve more dexterous skills, such as balance and aim. Viktor led Ren over to one such piece of equipment, a balancing beam a few inches off the ground. Viktor stepped up on top of it, walked to the end, and stepped off.

“You will not receive your new leg until you are able to do that.” Viktor said, “You may use your crutch as you practice.”

“That’s it?” Ren asked, “This is gonna be easy. A straight line, and with my crutch no less.”

“I will watch.”

Ren steadied himself as he put his leg up on the beam. He shifted his weight to the crutch and slowly moved his prosthetic up and onto the beam before him.

“Easy.” He said.

“Walk.” Viktor said.

Ren looked down at the beam. He moved his crutch forward and lifted his leg. Immediately, his prosthetic began to wobble. On the floor, this would have been caught by the ground, but on the beam, there was nothing and Ren tumbled off.

“Still think it will be easy?” Viktor asked.

“No,” Ren whined as he pulled himself back to his feet.

Standing from a fall was something he had had much practice with. Back onto the beam he went. This time he didn’t move his crutch forward quite so far and only lifted his leg instead of stepping with it. For minutes he did this, never moving a step until he stepped off. His arm was aching from the weight it had to support. He stretched it for a moment and then climbed back up. Again he spent minutes steading himself, except now he attempted a step. His leg still trembled, but not as wildly as before, and steadily, he brought his prosthetic limb around and placed it on the beam before his good one. Then he stepped off.

“One step down.” Ren said.

“Nine more to go.” Viktor added.

“That’s fine, I have the whole day and all of tomorrow and the next day.”

“And the day after that?”

“I’ll be busy.”

“And what will you be busy with?”

“Learning to walk on Flame Strike, version 2.”


	9. Chapter 9

Within two days, Ren had adjusted to his comfortable routine under Viktor. Wake up, stretch, attach the leg, stretch again, and sketch improvements for his limb until Viktor came. And when Viktor did show up, he would drink his breakfast smoothie and head out for strength and balance training. All the while, Viktor would lecture him on the parts of his new limb, the superiority of metal to flesh, and other mechanical maintenance information Viktor had deemed important. If Ren were being honest though, he only paid attention to half of what Viktor would say. He was a citizen of Zaun, and in Ren’s mind, that alone was all the mechanical knowledge he would need. Additionally, the extra brain space that Ren would have been spent on listening to Viktor was instead better spent on thinking up his own theme music he wanted to blare as he introduced his new leg to the world. Only the break for lunch would he put his personal soundtrack on pause, and lunch would, again, be smoothies.

Smoothies. Every breakfast, every lunch, and even every dinner had been smoothies. Always damn smoothies. At first, Ren though it was because his stomach may still be recovering and not be ready for solid food, but then he realized that Viktor himself didn’t eat solid food. He knew that Viktor wouldn’t have absconded from food out of solidarity for him, so something had to be off. His suspicions grew as Viktor placed another set of lunch smoothies on the table between them.

Ren sat down and sloshed the smoothie around his glass.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Ren said.

“But you are about to,” Viktor completed.

“No,” said Ren, “I was going to say that I had a question. Aren’t you science types the kind of people who love question?”

“Ask your question, N-12,” Viktor said dryly.

“OK, Ren will ask his question. Why is it that we always drink smoothies? Do you have some hidden agenda to drown the world in liquid fruit or something? Do you not know how to cook?”

“I know how to cook. Smoothies are more efficient. There is no need to waste time with excessive preparation or waiting for ovens to reach adequate temperatures or reading cookbooks.”

“You, you don’t know how to cook, do you?”

“I will not repeat myself. I know how to cook.”

“Can you prove it? I think the scientist in you would be proud I am questioning the world around me.”

“He is more annoyed. I do not need to prove anything to you. You are my guest.”

“Fine, I won’t ask again, but I will go on assuming you don’t know how to cook.”

Ren finished his smoothie with a smug expression on his face.

Viktor scowled, but under his mask, the expression was unseen.

“You doubt my ability,” Viktor said, “then I shall make a bargain with you. I shall make you a meal if you are able to walk across the beam without leaning on the crutch within the next two days.”

“Prepare to eat those words and something that isn’t a smoothie.” Ren said as he got to his feet.

He walked over to the beam and stepped up, using the crutch as support.

“No crutch.” Viktor said.

“I know,” Ren replied, “just needed it for a quick boost.”

Ren straightened himself up and took his weight off the crutch. But rather than dropping it, he held it in his hands perpendicular to his chest and began to walk. Step by step, he inched across the beam. The crutch wobbled as Ren fought to maintain balance. His thigh above the prosthetic shook from the unaccustomed strain of his full weight. Despite all the shaking, Ren kept his eyes focused firmly on the wall before him.

He took in more detail with each step.

_“The wall is a dull metal,”_ he thought.

Step.

_"It looks like numbers and lines were painted here, but I can’t tell what they mean.”_

Step.

_"That trail of rust looks like a creepy long finger.”_

Step.

_“Those rivets look new, I wonder if that part had been replaced?”_

Step.

_“That scorch mark is pretty big.”_

By now Ren had made it more than half way across the beam and a soft humming noise was snaking its way from his lips.

“ _With a killer rocket leg, I bet I could cause scorch marks like that.”_

Step.

_"I bet I could stomp things with it really well too.”_

Step.

_“I could smash that smoothie machine and then I wouldn’t have to drink those damn smoothies again.”_

Step.

_“Then I could dash lighting fast to the store and buy real food.”_

Step.

_"And then we can cook it together, as equals.”_

Step.

Ren went to put his next foot forward, but found that there was no beam left. He immediately lowered his crutch for support again.

“There,” he said after a long sigh, “I did it. So, what’s for dinner.”

“Nothing,” Viktor said.

“But, you said, if I could do the beam you’d cook.”

“I did, but tomorrow’s procedure requires you have an empty stomach.”

“Procedure?”

“You are ready to receive your robotic enhancement.”

Ren visage of anger quickly snapped of one of joy.

“I’m ready,” he repeated, “Oh yes! Flame strike leg, here I come.”

In his excitement, Ren lost balance and fell to the floor. Viktor sighed as he looked down at the kid.

_"Physically ready,”_ he sighed internally, _“mentally, still in need of improvement.”_


	10. Chapter 10

Ren was blissfully under the effects of anesthesia. Viktor examined the Ren’s body with approval. He was far healthier than when he first scoped the kid off the street, so much so that Viktor was surprised with the tenacity that Ren displayed. Some would say that it was Ren’s desire to live and spry personality that helped him bounce back, but Viktor didn’t believe in such foolish nonsense. He knew Ren’s recovery was due to his young body’s fresh cells healing him quickly. Whatever the reason, Ren’s body was healthy and ready to receive its augemntation.

_Subject is prepared. Augmentation is prepared. Muscles and nerves have been fit to machinery more intimately than mine._

Viktor cradled the new limb in his hands. It was another beautiful creation. Its shell was made of titanium that shone sleek silver, while the pylon of carbon fiber and aluminum gave the limb a light-weight center. The limb gave off a chemical smell from the sealant coatings that always left the faint flutter of excitement in Viktor’s stomach. It was an excitement that only grew as he placed the limb alongside Ren.

_Should move as natural limb. Experimental procedure. Will monitor recovery closely. If successful, could be used as a base for V-BBC._

He had finished treating his stump before fetching the prosthetic. The base now ended in what looked like an intricate socket, with latches along its rim and gears at its base. This socket was far more advanced than the peg sock could ever have dreamed of being and was a much more permanent fixture to Ren’s anatomy. It would likely be days before Ren would be able to put on or take off his leg without assistance. With a steady hand, Viktor locked the limb into place. The thin tips of his mechanical hand closed latches easily where his fleshy hand would have fumbled. For a moment he considered quickly replacing several of the adolescent’s fingers so that he may be able to perform the task with similar ease, but threw away the plan almost as quickly as it had sprung up.

_It would he dangerous for him to have such autonomy._

At last, Viktor was prepared to put the final piece in place. He opened a small container and pulled a hextech crystal from inside of it. It was not unlike the crystal that powered his staff and glowed a sharp blue color like a lightning bolt. Viktor placed it inside the limb through an access panel in the back. He screwed the panel shut and the limb became active with a dull whirl, as if the machinery was taking a deep sigh. Ren twitched in his sleep, but remained under the effects of the anesthetic.

_Beautiful sound._

Viktor picked up a small remote that connected to the limb and pushed a cycle to have it go through its basic movements. He glanced at Ren’s face every few seconds to ensure that he was still asleep. Much to his delight, the leg finished its demo without any hindrance. Only one great snore, that was more akin to a hog’s grunt, was an indication that Ren had felt anything. Viktor attached an IV to the area and collected his surgical equipment for cleaning.

_Success._


	11. Chapter 11

Ren grit his teeth and forced a smile. Although he was very truly happy, the pain in his leg was beyond distracting. Unlike his last limb, through which he felt nothing, he could feel the new machinery against his muscles. The sensation was new and raw. Ren dared not look down at the swollen joint, so he kept his chin up and kept smiling.

“Your fake smile is less flattering than your genuine one,” Viktor said as he filled a syringe.

He injected it into Ren at the swelling and steadily drained the solution so that it may lubricate the connections and ease the pain.

“You may be tempted to move it,” Viktor continued, “don’t. The mechanisms in this limb are superior to those of that peg leg you were wearing. Even the thought of wanting to bounce your knee, that slightest twitch, could have this limb moving. For now, you will sit still and I will tell you how to maintain this limb.”

“Thanks but I want to figure it out by myself. Taking things apart is how I learn to put things together, you know.”

“You will be doing no such thing. This limb is an investment and I will not be risking its safety to the fingers of an inexperienced child.”

“Child, I’m sixteen. And inexperienced? Any Zaunite worth their weight in scrap knows how work with machines.”

“Yes, and an infant rolling a toy tire is utilizing a simple machine. But this limb is nothing like a toy, so you will listen, N-12.”

Ren huffed, but made no further comment. He half-heartedly listened to Viktor lecture about the importance of every little piece and how they all connected. What finally did catch his attention was the realization that his stump no longer hurt. Ren held his breath and watched intently as he attempted to move the limb’s ankle. It responded.

“It’s moving!” Ren exclaimed, cutting off Viktor and lurching up to a sitting position.

His head spun for a moment, but that didn’t stop him. He placed his fingers around the ankle and wiggled it again. His smile swelled in earnest as he felt the metal gently move beneath his fingers.

“Of course it moves,” Viktor stated, “I wouldn’t waste my time giving you a limb that was as stiff as a board. This augmentation is extremely sensitive. Think about moving your toes.”

Red did just that and looked on in wonder as the bottom of the foot raised and lowered little pillars.

“They will mimic the foot’s muscles and their ability to create balance,” explained Viktor, “although they are not identical to an organic limb’s ability to balance, they are superior to any other robotic limb, even my own.”

“So this is better than what you have,” Ren asked as he continued to watch the pillar’s movements, “you didn’t seem like the type who would give anyone better tech than yourself.”

“That is because it is not better. Its reliability still isn’t 100%. There is a chance your new limb may explode, melt, or lock down. It is a small percent, 5% or less, but still it would be wise of you to listen when I teach you how to maintain your limb, N-12.”

“Yeah, totally. Next time you do, I’ll be all ears, but I’m ready to get walking.”

Ren dropped himself from the table before Viktor could even give a response. He staggered for a moment as he found his footing. The connection area throbbed angrily, but this pleased Ren. The throbbing came from the movement of his leg, from how the ankle bent, how the pillars adjusted balance, how he could feel the muscles at his knees moving. He walked with the gait of toddler to where his crutch rested.

“What are you waiting for?” Ren asked as he began to shuffle for the door, “I’m ready to go for a walk anywhere in this city.”

“You enthusiasm is noted,” Viktor replied, “but if you walk anywhere today, it will be around here. That leg is a costly investment on my part and I will not have you walking around through these thug infested streets with it without you knowing how to defend yourself first.”

“I can hold my own against a few thugs. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“No, but your leg was completed today, and it won’t be pickpockets after that limb. It will be tech thieves looking to steal my progress. They’ll rip it right off you if they can, but I won’t allow that to happen.”

“Didn’t know you cared about me that much,” Ren said with a huff.

“Your new limb can be a powerful asset in a fight,” Viktor continued, not dignifying Ren’s tone by buying into his jest, “and I will show you how to use it. Come, if you are so eager to walk, you should be just as thrilled to fight.”

Ren nodded.

“I can agree to that,” he said as he followed after Viktor, “I did notice a lack of spikes on the leg, so how else am I supposed to attack? Does it shoot a laser or have a hidden blade in the toes?”

“Spikes are unnecessary,” Viktor replied, “what I installed is better. Your limb uses a power source similar to my laser, but rather than focusing that energy into a thin line, the energy is spread out. It will be as though you have a rocket on your foot.”

“Alright, a rocket, I can roll with this,” Ren smiled, “rocket kicks.”

“Yes, I will be teaching you how to preform rocket kicks.”

Ren stopped in his tracks.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“I am always serious,” Viktor responded, “rocket enhanced kicks would be an ideal way for you defend yourself from thieves who are after my investment. Your self-defense training is important.”

“And I still have dinner to look forward to. This day just keeps getting better.”

Viktor opened the door to the training room.

“We shall see if you have that energy when we are done here.”

“I can’t wait.”


	12. Chapter 12

With each step he took, the thought of a new food wafted through Ren’s mind. Another pass over the balance beam was a plate of grilled vegetables. A lap around the gym was an extra slice of honeyed ham. Each shaky jumping jack was a taco. Even wiping his brow made him think of licorice icing on cookies. His mouth began to water at the thought of these cookies and the sweet herbal scent of anise.

Ren’s growling stomach interrupted his pleasant daydream. He decided that he had had enough training for the day, a decision that his trembling knees agreed with. Begrudgingly, he grabbed his crutch and hobbled off to the bathroom to clean himself before dinner. He locked the door to the small room, grabbed the hand towel from its bar, and pulled off his shirt.

Cold water flowed form the tap as Ren wrung the cloth below the stream. He gave the towel a final shake before moving to clean himself, but his hands stopped. It was his reflection. He hadn’t seen himself since before that fateful day that the machines took his leg. A frown crossed his face as he looked over his scrawny form and the dark bruises that stood out on his skin like an oil spill on clean canvass. His hair had grown longer, his dark curls almost reaching his shoulders. He had to smile for this. If he had known how handsome longer hair had looked on him, he would have grown it out years ago.

The small smile improved his mood immensely. His cheeks were ruddy, his hair sweaty, his muscles sore, and his body standing. Ren gave a quick look down and the metal connected to his stump. It was glorious. Invigorated again, he wiped himself down with the hand towel before returning to the training room to wait for Viktor.

The clanking of metal boots coming down the hall told Ren he didn’t have to wait long. Ren straitened up.

“What took you so long.” He asked, an easy smile crossing his face, “I thought I was going to waste away in here.”

“Unlikely,” Viktor replied stoically, “you have been gaining weight. It would take more than a day for you to starve to death.”

“You really don’t like jokes, do you?”

“I have no qualms with jokes when they are intelligent. It is your over exaggerations that you attempt to pass of as jokes that annoy me.”

Viktor looked at the crutch clutched in Ren’s hands.

“Have you exhausted your leg?”

“No,” Ren responded, “I just don’t want to overwork myself now.”

Viktor scowled beneath his mask but said nothing further about the topic.

“Come,” he said, “the food will grow cold if we keep waiting and wasting our time talking.”

“I can walk and talk at the same time,” Ren said, “it is one of many talents.”

“I am aware,” Viktor answered as he moved towards the door.

“So, what’s for dinner,” Ren asked, “I don’t really see you as the type of person who knows how to cook Zaun street food, no offense. I imagined that your pallet is more upscale than that. Did you cook one of those fancy Noxian dishes that you drink with blood red wine?”

“I do not spend my time making needlessly decedent meals,” Viktor replied, “what I have prepared is sufficient.”

Viktor pushed open the door to the kitchen. The building, having originally been a factory, had lacked a fully functional kitchen, so Viktor had to create on himself. The appliances weren’t the sleek, steel designs of the Piltover homes, but rather repurposed scrap assembled to resemble the intended object. The counter was an old workbench, a locker had been repurposed into an icebox, and a stove was welded together from parts of an old kiln, with the coarse soft brick lining the inside of the stove. Ren’s eyes caught site of a basket made from an old zeppelin propeller, in which fruit for Viktor’s smoothies were piled high.

“Have a seat, N-12,” Viktor said, “these were simple creations, nothing worth staring at.”

The scientist stepped to the counter, picked up a bowl in each hand and spoons with his third arm. He set the bowls on the table with where a loaf of bread was already sliced neatly. Ren took one look at the meal and had to hide some disappointment.

“It’s soup,” Ren said.

“How observant of you,” Viktor replied dryly.

“ _Soup, hot smoothies_ ,” Ren thought.

Still, soup did have solid components to it. Ren stirred his spoon through the murky broth and watched the layer of oil at the top shimmer. Potatoes, carrots, and onions bobbed from the unseen bottom of his bowl to join the beef that gave the soup its faint herbal fragrance of bay leaf. Viktor placed a napkin on the table for each of them before sitting down himself.

“And we just eat now,” Ren asked.

“I am surprised you haven’t started already,” Viktor responded, “after the way you were carrying on about wasting away.”

“No ‘how was training’, no grace, not even a ‘dig in’, just eat?”

“Why would I bother with such formality over such a mundane meal?”

“Conversation.”

Viktor didn’t comment, so Ren stopped talking with a shrug and took a bite of his soup.

The first thing Ren noticed about the taste was how salty it was. The potatoes were especially saturated with it. The basil that floated in the broth was more for appearance and fragrance than taste. A few more bites and Ren came to a revelation; Viktor couldn’t cook.

“Quick question about the food,” Ren said.

“If you do not approve,” Viktor mumbled, “then I can take it back.”

“Oh no,” Ren hastily replied, “I’m not complaining. I wouldn’t be as ungrateful as that. All I have is a simple question about the nutrition of the meal. You want me to be a healthy test subject, don’t you?”

“I do, which is why you must already know that the food I gave is nutritious.”

“I understand,” Ren said, “but humor me. Answer me this one question completely, no half answers, no vague responses, just one honest answer.”

Viktor paused for a moment.

“Ask,” he responded, “but this is your only question.”

Ren cleared his throat.

“Did you make this soup?”

“It is on the table and hot, is it not?”

“Ah-ah, no vague answers. Did you, Viktor, buy the ingredients for the soup, prepare them, and cook them?”

Ren leaned forward in his chair to hear the response.

“No,” Viktor answered.

A smug smile slid on to Ren’s face.

“I knew it,” he chuckled.

“You knew what,” Viktor demanded.

“Oh,” Ren teased, “you’re allowed to ask questions.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Alright, I knew you couldn’t cook. Living the bachelor life, I get it, no need to impress anyone, just keep yourself fueled and happy.”

“Bachelor life,” Viktor mused, “such wording implies that I am seeking a partner.”

“You aren’t?”

“No.”

“Then what am I? I’m hurt now.”

“You are a research subject, not an equal, and not psychically injured by words. I do not desire an equal. Assistants who would do my bidding without question would be welcomed. No, the only partner I want is Lady Science.”

Ren choked down a laugh.

“Lady Science? Who in the Sump’s name is Lady Science?”

“I said I wouldn’t answer any more questions,” Viktor responded harshly.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Ren grumbled.

“Fun is not necessary for progress.”

Ren shook his head and continued to eat, knowing this was an argument he would not win. But still, Ren reasoned to himself, it might be amusing to try. He cleared his throat and looked up from his meal. But his words froze in his throat.

A few silent clicks filled the empty air. Viktor’s fingers ghosted around the edge of his mask before he gently pried it off and set it on the table beside him. Ren would have sworn that he forgot how to blink in that moment.

Viktor's face was as pale as specter's. His eyes were a clouded grey, cool and dark as the steel he worked with. They were bloodshot, as though he always chose productivity over sleep. His brow showed similar signs of stress with the faint creases of worry lines. The bridge of his nose was long and narrow, ending in a small sharp nose. This sharpness was complimented by the equally hard lines of his jaw. A few strands of his dark hair were beginning to droop over his forehead, the wax that kept them slicked out of his face having worn off.

But it was not these normal features that held Ren spellbound. A crooked cheekbone, the remnants of an old fracture, was the least troubling of his telling marks. The veins around his eyes had long been discolored to the dark purple of a bruise. Small concaved machines covered his ears so closely to his face that Ren had a hard time believing that there were any ears below them at all. Below these were small sockets with scar tissue radiating around them, similar to those that held on Ren’s leg. They were polished to perfection and matched with the pegs on Viktor’s mask.

None of this however, troubled Ren so much as the quick glimpse he had at Viktor’s neck. The skin was raised in narrow bands, as though wires snaked their way through his body where veins should be.

“Your face,” Ren stammered after finding his speech, “what did-“

“We agreed to no more questions, N-12.”

“How can you expect me not to ask questions?”

“There’s another one.”

“Alright, alright,” Ren groaned, “but the second my ban on asking questions is up, they’re coming. In fact, I’ll probably have even more to ask you since I’ve now got the time to think of more.”

“I do not doubt that you will, but I am not obliged to answer any of them.””

“Coward,” huffed Ren.

At this Viktor chuckled.

“A coward you say, it is for your own weak stomach that I withhold information, child. Looking at your own stump after the amputation made you feel faint. You do not want to know about these.”

His fingers taped at the veins around his eyes.

“I bet I do have the stomach for it,” Ren protested.

“Very well,” Viktor said, his voice calm and cool, “after dinner I shall prepare the syringes so you may undergo the same augmentations. You will find your eyesight greatly improved afterwards.”

“Syringes?”

“Yes, this process requires several injections. I did not think you were afraid of needles.”

“I’m not.”

“Good. You will receive several injections around each eye. The final one is on the eyeball itself.”

“On the eye?”

Ren’s face turned as pale as Viktor’s.

“My eyesight is fine,” Ren laughed nervously, “they don’t need any improvement. Nope, not these beauties. Don’t trouble yourself.”

“Are you positive,” Viktor asked in a mocking tone, “your eyesight is average. I can improve it for you.”

“Nah, I’m good, and I wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself, not after the effort you put into this lovely meal. I see everything crystal clear.”

“Enjoy your mediocrity.”

Viktor took a bite of his food.

“Now,” he continued, “for the bet you just lost. I demand you to be silent for the duration of the meal.”

“Bet? I didn’t bet anything.”

“I bet I do have the stomach for it’, were those not your words?”

“They were,” Ren’s voice said without its previous bluster, “but I never said what I was staking.”

“No, you didn’t, so I decided for you, and I decided silence.”

“But-“

“Eat your dinner, N-12, and let us enjoy the silence between us or I shall recount, in great detail, the many dissections on eyes I performed in preparation for my own procedure.”

Ren sighed as loudly as he could, forcing out all his reaming words in that great exhalation, but said no more that night save for a single ‘thank you’ after dinner’s end.


	13. Chapter 13

“Thanks, Mary,” Ren said as he took the glass of water Viktor’s automaton had brought.

“Mary,” Viktor asked, “you gave it a name?”

“Of course I did,” Ren replied, “you had the two of them looming over me so much, I needed something to call them. Giving them names made their unfeeling faces seem less creepy.”

“And you called it a her? N-12, it is an automaton with no spirit. It is no different than using ‘her’ to describe a table or lamp.”

“It is different. You made her from a statue of a woman, so it makes sense she would be a woman. Mary is a pretty name and she deserves it. I have already named the man as well. He is Percy. I like to pretend they are married.”

“This is not worth arguing about,” Viktor sighed.

“Good,” Ren smiled, “I’m sure the names will grow on you as well. They aren’t the fancy science code you gave them, but I tried to keep them one syllable for you so it doesn’t take too long to say or write. I know how much you value your seconds and all.”

“I doubt I will.”

“Do you know what other name is also only one syllable?”

“Is it perhaps, Ren?”

“How did you guess,” Ren asked with a feigned gasp, “do you want to try using it, Viktor? My name?”

“Your name is Renatus, and that is three syllables.”

“How can you remember all this but not call me by it?”

“Because there are many Rens in the world but only one N-12. If I were to ever experiment with another Ren, my notes would become confusing.”

“I’m the only Ren I’ve ever met, and even if you met another, you could never forget my personality.”

“That may be true, but it won’t change how I record my data. Why do you care about your title here so much?”

“I think you would too if you weren’t called your name.”

“Enough of this,” Viktor said, “now, back to practice, we can keep bantering later.”

“Alright, alright,” Ren huffed, “I get it, Pops, crystal.”

Viktor froze for a moment and stared directly at the kid before him.

“Pops?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ren answered, “Pops. Why not, you’re old enough to be my dad.”

“I am not your father,” a cold, stern voice replied, “furthermore, you are sixteen, for me to have had a child that is your age I would have needed to copulate at too young an age, and lastly, if I was your father, I would not tolerate such casual language to be used with me.”

“Look, Pops, I saw your face last night; there’s no way you’re younger than thirty-five.”

“I am thirty. You are wrong, and now you know that my face is a terrible way to learn anything about me. You will cease calling me ‘Pops” now.”

Ren huffed, “Well now you know how irritating it can be to be called by something that isn’t your name.”

“I am not your peer, N-12, you will show respect for that.”

“What, you don’t think ‘Pops’ is acknowledging and respecting your age enough?”

“No, it is not. I’m giving you one last chance to cease that.”

“Why, you don’t like your nickname, Pops?”

No sooner than the hiss of the “s” smirked its way out of Ren’s lips, than it was met with the whirr of machinery and an angry red glow. Ren had just a moment to leap out of the way as a searing laser shot from Viktor’s third arm scorched a line across the ground where he was a second before.

“Shit,” Ren cursed as he staggered to keep his balance, “what the hell was that for?”

“I ordered you to stop, you didn’t, so I took matters into my own hands, all three of them.”

“You didn’t think that was overkill, though? What if that hit me?”

“Then I would have replaced your limb and you would have learned not to insult me. But that didn’t happen. I didn’t hit you, I know your reflexes are working, and you still have learned your lesson.”

“You risked my safety to teach me a lesson?”

“Anything that might have happened, I could have undone.”

Ren’s forehead flashed with color as his hands clenched.

“I’m leaving,” Ren stated.

He turned towards the door and began to walk.

“You will not leave this factory. I forbid it,” Viktor ordered.

“I wasn’t going to leave the factory, but thanks for letting me know I’m a prisoner here. I’m going to my room. Training is over, besides, you know my reflexes are fine now.”

Viktor could feel himself reaching for the emergency lock controls for Ren’s leg.

“And where did you find the gall to think you could speak to me like that?”

“Maybe,” Ren replied as he continued to the door, “it was in the same place as the thought that, since we shared a meal together, you would treat me like a human. I saw your face and the wires and bolts, but I’m still giving you that courtesy. Now good day.”

With that Ren slammed the door behind him and stormed down the hall, the uneven clanking of his metal leg echoing back.


	14. Chapter 14

Anger was always a troublesome emotion for Viktor. The other emotions he had learned to dull or suppress a long time ago but, try as he might, he could not keep anger suppressed for long. There was something about it, raw and primal, that went deeper than the mind and allowed it to bypass his various serums. And it was that simple yet tricky emotion that swelled within him at the moment.

“Unacceptable,” Viktor growled under his breath, “you, ensure that storage room B is the one he goes to,” he pointed to the automaton that Ren named ‘Mary’ before stalking off to his lab.

Viktor sat down in his chair with more violently than normal causing his old chair to squeak under the sudden burden. He reached for folders of his current experiment and removed the log with ‘12’ written at the top and opened it to the first blank page. He tapped his pen against the page a few times before he found the words appropriate for the log.

_Day 19_

_Project-Subject: N-12_

_Behavior today, unacceptable. Though subject shows signs of physical improvement beyond projected measurements, behavior is becoming unruly. May become a danger to project if allowed to continue. I hesitate to use all emotion suppressing serums and procedures on subject in rapid succession. Performed them on self over long span of time but have no data for what a short term introduction could result in. Must focus on most troubling emotions first._

_Anger? Source of subject’s outburst but least reliable results._

_Fear? Not present in subject. Fear may be needed for control._

_Joy? Jovial attitude is abrasive but subject insists happiness is part of his rapid recovery. Nonsense. Still, do not wish to harm subject’s progress, even if source is imagined. Will leave emotion untampered with as long as necessary._

_Sorrow? Behavior displayed rarely. Briefly after loss of limb (expected), but not again until today. Outburst caused by my reluctance to call him by his name. Immature._

Viktor looked at the last line. The silence of his chamber was filled with the metallic tapping of his fingers drumming on his desk as he looked with deep displeasure at the words he had just written. He sat there for several minutes, staring at the words, before speaking.

“False statements.”

His voice, though betraying no emotion, said the words so slowly that it sounded as if some invisible force has dragged them from his mouth after a great tug-of-war. Then, with a quickness that seemed odd compared to the previous drawl, he crossed out the line and continued to write.

_~~Outburst caused by my reluctance to call him by his name. Immature.~~ Outburst caused by attack. I fired a laser at the subject. It was slow and weak in power. I could have undone any damage. Subject overreacted. I was not wrong._

Another pause and cross out.

_Outburst caused by attack. I fired a laser at the subject. ~~It was slow and weak in power. I could have undone any damage. Subject overreacted. I was not wrong.~~ Subject reacted as an attacked creature would. Subject favors “fight” response to increased adrenaline. Reflexes, good. Balance, good. Behavior, should have been expected._

_But, subject’s behavior before confrontation was unacceptable, demanding, childish._

Another pause, longer this time, and not filled with the tapping of fingers.

_But my behavior, aggression, was unacceptable, unprofessional, childish. I will improve. I will suppress my anger and shall attempt to placate the subject. Project cannot continue with hostility. It will be done for the sake of the project._


	15. Chapter 15

Viktor stood before Ren’s door, rationalizing his decision, just as he did at his desk and the walk over.

_Subject’s behavior hindering work. Decision should resolve situation. Following procedure is least invasive and should produce quickest results. Will have least reliable long term success though. Short sighted action on my part? Perhaps. Will still attempt. Long term results may exceed projected results. Skeptical though._

At last, Viktor knocked on the door; two short knocks that echoed down the empty hallway.

“If your name isn’t Mary or Percy,” Ren’s voice shot back instantly, “then go away.”

Viktor knocked again. This time there was silence. Another knock. Now a groan was heard from behind Ren’s metal barrier.

"Fine, fine, I get it. Still not responding to your names. Hold on.”

Steps approached and, with a click, the door opened. Ren looked up and a scowl crawled onto his face.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said as he began to close the door.

Viktor’s third hand reached and held onto it, holding it open.

“I am coming in,” Viktor stated matter-of-factly, “and you should know that locking me out isn’t an option. I hold all the keys to this complex.”

Ren’s scowl deepened. He released his grip on the door and stomped back over to his cot. Viktor strode in after him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ren’s sketchpad left open to its most recent addition; an unappealing sketch titled “Robo-jerk” that depicted a caricature that vaguely resembled Viktor with frayed wires protruding from his nostrils as though they were unkempt nose hairs. Viktor inhaled sharply, but did no more to acknowledge the offending image.

Ren sat down on his cot and pushed his sketch pad to the side.

“What do you want,” he demanded.

“I have come to ensure that our earlier confrontation does not endanger the success of the project.”

Ren quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh,” he said with a huff, “you think I will tamper with my own leg to spite you?”

“I know you aren’t foolish enough to attempt that. I know you would never wish to return to crawling through filth.”

“So what then? Did you come here to say backhanded compliments or threaten me?”

“Neither.”

“Drug me then? Keep me under control? Can’t handle a little human emotion?”

“That isn’t it either.”

“Then what?”

Viktor made no response.

_Remain calm. Subject does not know intentions. Behavior will return to acceptable soon. Outlast. Do not act like the insolent child._

“Just get out of here,” Ren continued, “let me draw in peace.”

Ren shot up from his cot so suddenly and with such force and conviction that his mechanical leg let out a burst of light and propelled itself up an extra inch.

“What do you want?”

Viktor took a deep breath.

“I have come to talk,” he said steadily, “firstly, you are incorrect, I can manage interacting with human emotion.”

Ren was about cut in but Viktor cut him off first and with increased volume.

“But, I am out of practice with it.”

Ren shook his head quickly, dumbfounded and not fully believing what he had just heard.

“We were both behaving unacceptably,” continued Viktor, “and I should not have lashed out physically. It was unprofessional and I do not wish to endanger our working relationship.”

“So, what you’re saying is,” Ren said, urging Viktor to continue,

“I apologize,” finished Viktor.

Ren took a deep, long sigh and sat back down. His eyes closed for a moment or two, before snapping back open, twice as bright as before.

“Okay,” he said, cheerful demeanor having returned, “apology accepted, Viktor.”

He was back on his feet in an instant.

“But if you shoot that laser at me again, I’m going to want an apology with my name, the whole name. Every beautiful syllable of Renatus.”

For a moment Viktor found himself without words, a void which Ren quickly filled with his own voice.

“I know you’re staring under that mask,” he chattered on, “probably thinking how horribly unpredictable and rapid human emotions are,” he dropped his voice into a horrendous imitation of Viktor’s tone as he spoke those last few words, “I get it. You’re confusion is crystal, but, as someone who is an expert on human emotion, I understand. People get mad and, more importantly, people forgive and people should accept it and move on.”

Ren looked so invigorated that it would not be difficult to imagine that he could have continued to speak had Viktor not interrupted while he was taking a breath.

“You speak an unnecessarily large amount,” Viktor stated neutrality.

“Hey,” Ren responded, “you’ve got your few big sciencey words and I’ve got my lot of little ones. So, are we going to get back to training today?”

“No,” Viktor replied, “you should take the rest of the day to recuperate. I have other matters to attend to.”

* * * * *

Later that evening, Viktor again began to write in his journal for project N subject 12.

_Procedure appears successful. ~~Ren~~ Subject’s positivity overwhelming. Displayed immediate forgiveness. Unexpected._

He paused and looked long and hard at what he had just wrote before adding three more words.

_But not unwelcome._


	16. Chapter 16

Ren awoke yet brighter and earlier the following day. He stretched, cleaned his leg, finished a sketch, and was off to the training room before Viktor even arrived at his room. He sped down the hallway at his top speed, which was growing faster day by day, leaving behind his crutch and a note to explain where he had gone with Mary.

Even with his head start, Ren didn’t have to wait long before Viktor joined him in the gym.

“I leave your door unlocked once and you depart before I arrive,” Viktor stated.

“Don’t take it personally,” Ren said, “nothing against you or your hospitality, I’m just too excited. I mean, come on, a rocket kick! Do you have any idea how many Zaun kids dream about stuff like this? Except it’s real, and I’m going to be learning how to do it.”

“Excitement aside,” Viktor continued, “I do not approve of you leaving beforehand. However, as long as you send the automaton to me with your note as to you whereabouts, you may leave early to train and exercise. It will save me the time from having to walk to your room only to discover you missing.”

Ren’s eyes beamed.

“You mean it? That’s the nicest thing I think you’ve done, outside of patching me up and all.”

“You are well enough that I do not expect you to harm yourself without a constant watch. Do not disprove me,” Viktor said.

“I’ll try,” Ren replied with a nod and smile.

Viktor nodded in acknowledgement and proceeded with his lesson.

“The thruster in your foot responds to stimuli from the muscles in your upper leg. Under normal conditions, the movements in your leg would not activate the thruster. Clenching your muscles for a span greater than one second will provide the stimuli needed for the thruster to engage. You may have seen this briefly last night during my visit to you. When you became more enraged, you clenched your fists, and your legs, for a brief moment before standing. You had activated the thrusters and your leg propelled itself off the ground for a moment.”

“I already did a mini rocket kick? I didn’t notice.”

“I am a scientist, N-12, I’m trained to pay attention to minute details. You should practice it as well. It will be crucial to your first lesson. You will perform small bursts, such as last night’s, one-hundred times. Begin.”

“Ugh, mini bursts I can’t even feel. I already did one; do I seriously need to do more?”

Viktor responded in an instant. That morning, he had rehearsed a series of responses to questions Ren may pose that day. He knew that if he didn’t have a response ready, his subject would waste no time in piling on more questions.

“When we take into account last night’s demonstration,” Viktor said, “it stands to reason that you wouldn’t need as much practice. Adjust your training to perform only ninety-nine bursts.”

Ren groaned.

“Control is vital when dealing with explosions. A miscalculation could result in severe consequences. Starting fires, unintended collateral damage, or injury to self. I forbid you to endanger your augmentation. Now you will practice or I will remove the thruster until you are willing to.”

“Fine, I got it,” Ren grumbled.

He clenched his leg muscles and after a moment, he heard the thrusters begin to hum to life. Pleased that he was able to achieve this with ease, a smug smile slipped onto his face.

This smile was then immediately erased when the sudden release of the thrusters threw him from balance. His arms flailed around like turbine propellers as he regained his balance. Ren’s cheeks warmed red as he saw Viktor watching him and knew that under that mask, his eyes were gloating.

“Don’t say anything and I won’t,” Ren stammered as he tried to recover his pride, “I’ll just go over here and finish my other 98.”

“An agreeable decision,” Viktor nodded.

Viktor sat down on a chair as Ren retreated to a solitary corner, and began to record in his oil stained notebook. A few quick notes later, and he was back on his feet directing Mary and Percy to set up crude dummies made from the scraps of broken automatons.

When at last Ren had completed his task, Viktor again turned his attention back to his subject. Not to his surprise, he saw the slightest shine of sweat on Ren’s forehead.

“Charge the thrusters for two seconds before release,” Viktor said.

Ren nodded and performed the action. Much like before, there was the hum of machinery, the force at release, and the momentary struggle for balance. Unlike before, this struggle was minimal.

“Hah,” Ren cheered, “better.”

“But not perfect,” Viktor replied.

“Let me guess, another hundred?”

“No, practice until you are able to maintain balance at that charge five times in a row. Once you achieve that, continue to a three second charge.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Ren nodded almost in disbelief.

Ren immediately got to work before Viktor could change his mind and give him a more regimented work out. Viktor had no intention of doing that though, and he sat down and allowed the automatons to complete the setup while he recorded observations in his notebook.

He tallied the number of times Ren was able to keep balance and the number of times her couldn’t and how far between these occasions were. Viktor’s surgical eye noted how he lost his balance and how he regained it. Knowing how Ren moved would be critical for calibrating his leg.

Faster than before, Ren completed his exercises and stood sweaty and grinning before Viktor.

“Three seconds, got it, can do it,” he said between catching his breath, “now I want to do some kicking.”

“I will ensure you are able to defend yourself,” Viktor said as he stood, “Follow.”

He directed Ren over to the makeshift dummies.

“Kick one,” Viktor directed, “but do not use your thruster. I want to observe your form.”

“Prepare to be blown away then,” Ren boasted.

Strutting up to a dummy, Ren chambered his metal limb before, much to Viktor’s surprise, delivering a well formed roundhouse kick.

“How’s that,” he asked with a swagger.

“Your technique appears practiced. Have you trained before,” Viktor responded.

“Trained is too formal a word,” Ren answered, “but you don’t live on Zaun’s streets for too long if you can’t fight. I’ve had to fight off more than one chemmed up thug.”

“A believable statement. Now fending off miscreants will be easier. Perform a one second charged kick.”

Ren’s face illuminated like a sunrise over Mt. Targon. He pulled his leg into a chamber, angled it towards the dummy’s side, felt the thrusters rev up, and released. His eyes widened as the marvel of how fast his foot moved and at the sizeable dent that was left in the dummy.

“No way. That was wicked! Did you see that, Viktor? Sump’s pits, nobody would want to mess with me if they could see this,” cheered Ren.

“A well-executed kick,” Viktor agreed, “but it is not enough to know how to kick, but where to strike your enemies.”

“Oh, cheap shots. Crystal.”

Ren revved up his leg again and slammed it into the dummy’s knee.

“That would knock em’ down.”

He made another kick to where the kidneys would be.

“That spot hurts.”

Then he delivered a final, rocket powered scoop kick to the groin.

“And if all else fails, that works. Or you could always start your fights with that. Whichever.”

Viktor chuckled softly after a momentary silence.

“I would like to have had a golem for you to spar. With minor modifications it is likely that you would be able contend with one.”

“Only contend,” Ren scoffed, “come on, you underestimate me. Watch this.”

Viktor observed and as he did, his fingers frantically recorded what he saw. If before he believed that Ren’s talent was ceaseless chatter, he now firmly believed that destruction was his true talent. Ren appeared to know every place to hit a person and every kick to do it with. Reverse roundhouse kicks to the ribs, crescent kicks to the shoulder, sidekicks to the chest; he performed them all. In a matter of moments the dummy was dented on all sides.

“And now for the finale,” Ren declared.

He ran up to the dummy and stretched his limb as far as he could to deliver a rocket roundhouse to the head. Metal on metal clanged like a gong as both Ren and his opponent tumbled to the floor. He lay there panting before bursting into laughter.

“I’ve missed that,” he chuckled, “haven’t had a workout like that since I last saw Ekko. Bugger probably thinks I’m dead. Oh, but never mind that, that felt incredible.”

He pulled himself back to a sitting position and, with a big grim stretched across his face, turned to Viktor and said “thanks.”

“Your gratitude is appreciated but not needed,” Viktor responded, “progress is its own reward.”

“Truly? You never want anything in return for what you do? I bet I could think of something.”

“You are welcomed to think as long as it does not interfere with my work with you.”

“Hey, I’ve got rocket kicks now. I don’t think anything could keep me from wanting to practice them for too long. I can promise you that.”


	17. Chapter 17

The shrill hum of a drill pierced the night air. Viktor sat at his workbench with one of his own legs on the table receiving adjustments. The light of his lamp burned steadily, its oil having been enhanced by Zaun’s chemtech, and provided ample light for his surgical work. With the unwavering balance of his mechanical hand, Viktor upgraded his limb to be closer to Ren’s, now that the prototype was showing signs of success. His forceps carefully moved aside the wires of his leg, their veins, as he installed the hardware that would allow for a more flexible ankle. It was slow work, but work Viktor loved and it was well past midnight when he had finished.

He would have liked to continue, to work till the dawn, but the meticulous work left his mind aching like an overworked muscle. Reluctantly, he cleaned his tools and returned them all to their exact spots on his bench before reattaching his limb. A small grunt escaped him as the nerves were reconnected. Though the reconnection caused no pain, the shock always caused a primal lurch that he could not control. But rather than let it annoy him, Viktor always thought of it as that last gasp of flesh and its flaws as it gave way to mechanical perfection.

Viktor observed his foot as he moved it through simple motions to ensure all was attached as it should be. As he did, his mind strayed back to Ren and how he moved so naturally in combat.

_Practiced form. Kicks clean, fast, accurate. Reveled in it. Subject displays greater aptitude for violence than originally thought. Enhance limb for more combat capabilities?_

Melee combat was barbaric by Viktor’s standards. After all, lasers left clean, cauterized wounds and ashes were easier to clean up than bloodied bodies. Still, Viktor acknowledged that some familiarity with the martial skills was good for the health. You never could know when you would need to defend yourself up close from a chem baron’s thugs, a feral beast, or an overzealous, shortsighted, Piltoven inventor.

Viktor’s mind grew dark as he lingered on that last thought. It was a dangerous place to linger. He knew this and tried to distract himself with other thoughts, but it was too late and he found himself mired in that dark place.

The whistling of golems prepared as hosts, how placid the look of the faces of Zaun’s poor were, even with their heads opened, the glow of the Shuriman crystal and the deep thrums it made as it powered his machines, and of course, the clanging rage of battle before the blinding explosion and the crumbling of walls.

_Damn him. I would have saved them. That crystal should have been mine. My purpose was greater. They could have lived. Shortsighted, brash, stupid. I was right to distrust you, know you could never understand. Destructive idiot. Their blood is on your hands, not mine._

The logical part of Viktor’s mind recognized what was happening and tried again to distract himself with thoughts of his current experiment, but that too became corrupted. He wondered if that altercation would have gone differently with Ren by his side.

_Doubtless._

He envisioned Ren being able to keep pace with Jayce’s movements, dodging blows effortlessly, and utilizing the rocket kick he enjoyed so much to attack choice weak spots on their mutual foe.

The thought of this sent a pang of excitement through his body and Viktor noticed that he had been tightly clenching his human fist and that his laser arm glowed angrily with pent up energy. He relaxed his arms, all of them, and quickly attributed this outburst of emotion to the fatigue of mind he was already experiencing. Immediately, he set about preparing himself for rest. For a moment, he considered injecting himself with his mood inhibiting chem solution, but decided against it. The logical part of his brain knew that this was a foolish choice, but that small, ravenous part of him that still craved emotion was enjoying the sadistic self-satisfaction that currently held his heart. He reasoned that this indulgence would later serve as a drive for Ren’s improvement so that he may see the day that his foe lay broken at the hands of his work.


	18. Chapter 18

Humming a tune known only to him, Ren prepared for his day. He observed his foot as he moved it through simple motions to ensure all was attached as it should be before collecting the pile of sketches he had completed. After quickly flipping through the stack, he removed two before putting the rest into an old messenger bag bearing the logo of the now defunct zeppelin company. One of the two sketches was one he had drawn especially for Viktor, while the other was one he had grown rather fond of.

It was a drawing of Mary and Percy engaged in another scene of the domestic life Ren had envisioned for them. Dressed like members of Zaun’s upper class, the two automatons danced together in bliss across the page. Ren placed this drawing with the others of their imagined life he had drawn, right next to one that depicted Mary busy at work at a writer’s desk.

A sigh came from Ren as he looked over these sketches and he knew that he needed today to keep his sanity. Without further delay he departed. As far as he knew, today was the best time to attempt his plan of sneaking out. Last night, Viktor had informed him that he was not to be disturbed at all while he worked. And so, Ren crept carefully past the door to Viktor’s private workroom, stopping only to slide the picture for him under the door.

Ren’s pulse quickened as he wrapped his robotic foot in scrap cloth to disguise it. Finally, he was going to venture out into the city after over a month of voluntary captivity. He didn’t even pause when his hand wrapped around the handle of the factory’s door before pushing it open and stepping out into the open.

The abandoned factory was situated on an out cropping over the gorge’s widest point so that the completed zeppelins would have been able to soar away without risk of scrapping the rocky walls. From up here, Ren could see the faint glitter of Zaun’s lamps both above and below him, piercing through the Gray. The sight of this pushed any remaining apprehension from his body as he sped off towards the hidden elevator Viktor had used to bring him here and that would now carry him to Zaun proper.

Ren loved his city. The rumble of machines, the flow of chemicals through the great pipes, and the wheezing of escaping steam made Zaun feel like a great gruff living creature. And her people were just as gruff and alive.

Ren watched them bustle below him as he crossed a chasm on a large pipe. The rich color of the dark fabrics stood out boldly against their skin, which was paler than most due to lack of sunlight. The glint of metal shone on every citizen. It could have been from something as simple as a pocket watch or as complex as a mechanical limb, but everyone had something. The mechanical limb he did see, Ren noted, was much bulkier and more unwieldy than his. He watched this man lurch about with an uneven gait until his eyes came to rest on a service ladder. He hurried to it and eagerly slid down to join the others at street level. As soon as he did, he suddenly felt as though no time had passed since that awful day. Though it was true that Zaun is a city that is always changing, the overall disposition of the place remained the same; her people were pushy, her streets busy, and her air reeking of oil. It was the homecoming Ren had hoped for.

He took his time wandering the streets, admiring the buildings. Wrought iron shapes stood out menacingly against the soot stained sides of buildings, while the graceful brass gilding made them look like something to be protected. The glowing glass of lamps illuminated the contours of the multitude of pipes that crisscrossed the city, holding it in a tight embrace.

Enjoying himself so much, he decided to even make a stop at one of Zaun’s few parks, which was located inside a massive cultivair, a dome of glass in which plants and trees could grow protected from the Gray and give off clean air. Ren had sat down on a bench and was relaxing, listening to bird songs play from concealed sonophones, when the scent hit his nose. It was fatty, oily, damp, meaty, and wonderful all at the same time. His mouth watered as he recalled what it was.

“Street food,” his watery mouth moaned.

Nearby a portly man with a reddish grin and a grease stained apron stood by a cart and handed out sausages in buns overflowing with grilled peppers. Ren’s stomach growled, but he had no money to alleviate its distress. Instead he filled his belly with determination to finish what he had originally set out to do, find a market.

Unlike the Bridgewaltz, the largest market in Zaun, Ren was looking for a more niche market. This market lacked the warm glow of chem-lamps, the security of guards, or the visiting Pilties. It catered to a lower class than the ladies in their finery, wandering the upper levels and buying the latest fashions from Demacia, and instead looked to draw in those interested in robotics.

Ren climbed over the rubble of a building that had fallen from above long ago and beheld the little market. The remaining green glass of the ruin’s shattered cultivair cast a pale light over the little market nestled within its broken body. Here and there, scrap was traded and appraised. Another stall sold bootlegged copies of Piltover texts, while the one next to it bought and sold used mechanical limbs. A shiver ran down Ren’s spine as the stall’s owner, a goon of man who had lost an ear, but won, in a fight against a Chem-Baron’s thug, peered down his crooked nose at him. He wondered not if, but how many of the wares at his stall had been unwillingly removed from their previous owners. Ren quickened his pace and moved towards a corner of the market where he began to unpack his wares.

He splayed out his drawings around him and waited for someone to take interest. His wait was not long, for his artwork was unique and appealed to those of a special disposition that could frequently be found in places like this. It appealed to people who were drawn to the idea of technosexuality. All manner of Ren’s artwork sold, from elegant portraits of golems with pretty sandals laced about their feet, to deeply explicit images that Ren felt obliged to place out facedown so that no passing innocent would have their face flush red from discomfort. By far though, his pinups were his most popular drawings and it was less than two hours before he sold them all. As the last one passed from his hands, Ren wondered if Viktor knew of privileged to get one of these sought after illustrations for free.

Satisfied with his profits, Ren began to pack himself up, but he was not so engaged that he didn’t miss the two sets of eyes watching him intently from the shadows.

“I can see you there,” he called out to those in the shadows, “you don’t need to be afraid. Come out.”

With nervous steps, two young children approached Ren.

“Is that really you,” a young boy with blonde hair that curled as though it was steam escaping from an engine, asked.

He went to approach Ren but his companion held him back. The dark freckles that specked her cheeks were barely visible against her already dark skin.

“We don’t know for sure,” she warned, “they said Ren fell. What if he’s an imposter?”

“Firstly,” Ren cut in, “just because I fell, doesn’t mean I’m dead. Secondly, I’m flattered at the thought, but why would anyone want to impersonate me? And thirdly,” he rolled up his sleeve as he said this last part, “who else would have a tattoo as cool as this and know that I called you Curly and Freckles?”

The two kids looked at each other in disbelief for a heartbeat before running up to their lost friend. Ren caught them with his open arms and hugged them closely.

“We thought you had died,” Curly whimpered into Ren’s shoulder.

“It’ll take more than some machinery and a little stumble to kill me,” Ren reassured them.

“But how,” Freckles asked, “Ekko went looking for you. He only found your toe.”

“Well” Ren said as he gave a quick, cautionary glance over his shoulder to ensure that the limb stealing goon was occupied, “I had a stroke of luck, and got a new one.”

He rolled up his pants a few inches to reveal the shimmering metal underneath.

Their faces shifted to ones of wonder and Ren had to quickly hush them to keep from drawing too much attention.

“But where,” they whispered in unison.

“A doctor found me,” Ren answered, “he’s been helping me out.”

“A doctor,” Freckles asked.

“Yeah,” Ren paused for a moment to think, “the doc’s a student at some fancy robot doctory school. He knows the people doctor stuff, but needed practice with machine parts. He gave me a spare leg and practices on it, and I get better. It’s a win-win.”

“But will you get to come home soon,” Curly asked with pleading eyes, “we’ve missed you.”

“I don’t know,” Ren answered truthfully.

It surprised him to realize that he hadn’t given it much thought before, but now that he did think about it, he wondered how long the relationship between himself and Viktor was going to last.

“Maybe till the end of the semester,” he continued, “I miss you guys too. You know what, since I’ve been feeling better, I’ll try to get out more to see you guys more often. How’s that sound?”

Ren could tell that they were still a little disappointed by his response, but they smiled and nodded anyways. He returned their smiles tenfold until his growling stomach cut in.

“I’ve got another idea,” Ren spoke as he began to collect his belongings, “what good is all this money if I don’t spend it? What do you say that we all get sausages and peppers, my treat, but only if you make sure nobody put me on the memorial wall? I don’t want people mourning for me because I ain’t dead.”

The kids nodded immediately. Ren gave them a quick smile and pat on the head.

“I knew you’d be crystal about the whole thing.”

The three set off back up through the dark paths and hidden ladders towards the upper levels of the city. If Ren was going to treat them, he was going to treat them to the best he could find. They stopped at an overlook near the Bridgewaltz, and while Ren went off to buy the food, the two kids found a place to sit where they could look out at the sprawling city below them. Ren returned triumphantly, carrying three sausages with him. With rabid eagerness, the three unwrapped their steaming subs. The heavenly, meaty aroma hung about them as the red and green peppers spilled over the sides of the buns and the sausage shone like a mottled treasure.

As they ate, the kids swapped stories about the latest news, which Chem-Barons were acting up, interesting salvage they had found, and what trials they were trying to compete, while Ren told them more about how he survived his fall into the machines. He carefully avoided mentioning Viktor by name, and simply kept referring to him as “the Doc.” When they weren’t talking, they simply sat and enjoyed the pleasures Zaun had to offer; her views, her food, and her company.

At length, an old bell rang out from a bronze capped tower which had long tarnished green from age. Ren got to his feet and stretched.

“I’ve got to head out,” he admitted glumly, “but we’ll see each other soon.”

“You promise,” Curly asked in a pitiful tone of voice.

“Swear it on the Sump,” added Freckles.

“I swear on all the filth of the Sump. Now, off you two go and be careful. Don’t put yourselves in any unnecessary danger unless you absolutely must prove your mettle to someone, and even then don’t risk your lives while doing it.”

The two kids sped off into the crowd, turning to smile and wave before vanishing into Zaun’s chaos. Ren let out a small sigh after they left before setting off on his own way home. He made one final stop on his outing to collect some metal paints of bright, fiery hues. With his prizes in his sack, he hopped aboard a cable trolley that carried him over the gorge and back to the side of the great chasm where Viktor’s hidden elevator awaited him.


	19. Chapter 19

Ren sat in the gym with his sketchpad, doodling flame patterns. He felt more refreshed than he had in days and ideas flowed freely from his fingers. When Viktor arrived, he reluctantly put away his pad.

Viktor, for his part, was also feeling refreshed from his day uninterrupted work on other personal projects. Despite this, Ren could still sense that there was something off about the scientist that morning.

“N-12,” Viktor said with the imperious tone he usually reserved for commanding the automatons, “explain what the meaning of this is.”

From the folds of his coat, Viktor withdrew a piece of paper and displayed with stern posture.

Ren smiled.

“Oh,” he said jovially, “you found her. It’s Lady Science, what do you think?”

Lady Science, as depicted by Ren, was a shapely robot with a sleek finish. Her anatomy was similar to that a human with some aspects enhanced and exaggerated. Endowed mechanical breasts strained gently against the lab coat she was wearing, which, outside of a pair of glasses turned down on her nose, was the only thing she was wearing. She held a clipboard to her waist to protect her modesty while her other hand held a pen suggestively up to her lips. The lenses of her eyes were dilated just so that she could stare up with a sharp, seductive look at the viewer. A small bolt on her cheek, caringly placed by Ren, acted as a beauty mole.

Looking at his work again, Ren smiled with pride.

“What do you think? I wasn’t sure how you felt about robots, well, robot women that is, so I tried to keep her design leaning towards human.”

“You wish for my honest opinion?”

“I already assumed you’d always be honest and blunt with my anyways.”

Viktor took in a breath before letting his opinion out in one long stream.

“Clothing would create unnecessary drag during movement. Unless they held vital operating equipment, the breasts like structures protrude too much. If vital equipment was being stored in them, it should be redistributed more evenly to promote balance and keep the design from becoming unnecessarily top heavy. Lastly, if this robot required an upgrade for visual hardware, it would more efficient to replace the lenses entirely rather than design glasses for it. Functionality over from, N-12.”

Ren blinked. Dumbfounded, he sat with a blank expression before bursting into laughter.

“What is so amusing,” Viktor demanded.

“You really don’t get it, do you,” Ren asked a he wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye, “the form is the functionality. To put it in mechanical terms, she can be a good releasing agent.”

Now it was Viktor’s turn to be silent and dumbfounded. When he recovered, he returned the illustration back to his coat and gave a quick order to speak no more of the subject.

“This will be the focus of today’s training,” Viktor announced as he placed a small box on the table.

Ren hopped to his feet and quickly went to open the box. Inside was a pair of vicious looking brass knuckles. It would have been more accurate though, to call them gear knuckles, since the protrusions on the weapons were made from mismatched gears. A quizzical look crossed Ren’s face. The weapons seemed too brutish a creation for Viktor, but a look at the clean welding and precise that the gears were sharpened to left no doubt about whom their creator was.

“We are going to enhance your technique,” Viktor stated.

“I appreciate it,” Ren returned, “but I thought we were working on my leg, not my arms.”

“I expect you to become a warrior. If you must defend yourself, you will be using both your hands and your leg.”

Ren shrugged and slipped the weapons onto his hands. A small shiver ran down his spine, not from the chill of the metal, but from a wave a malice that rolled through him. He knew that these were designed to maim not defend, but he remained silent about this.

“The gears have been design so that with practice, they can be used to catch an opponent’s weapon, similarly to the Noxian swordbreaker dagger,” Viktor explained,” they can also be used to sever key wires and tubes in an enemy’s augmentation. Locate either the power supply or main exhaust and cripple the connection. On many inferior chem limbs a buildup without its controlled release will have devastating effects.”

“Would my leg ever do that?”

“I said inferior, and my designs are not inferior. Your leg has fail safes to prevent catastrophic failure.”

“Crystal, good to know.”

“As you have already demonstrated,” Viktor continued, “applying your thrusters at opportune moments allows you to add more force to your blows. Given proper application, you will also be able to use this to add more torque and power to your punches. Sweeping kicks with your shin should also be practiced.”

“Question,” Ren interrupted, “if I’m using my knee more, can I add those spikes I’ve been asking about?”

“No.”

Viktor’s response was instantaneous. Ren huffed but said no more. He had hoped that the seventh time asking would have been the charm.

Sensing that Ren was going to remain quiet, Viktor presented him with a new form a training dummy. It looked like a tree trunk made of metal and stripped down to a few leafless branches. This trunk was divided into three sections that could each move independently of each other, so the branches would rotate around if they were hit. The end of each branch was also fitted with a socket so that Viktor could attach different forms of weaponry, such as a fist, a blade, or a hammer. Ren gave the device a cautionary tap. One of the branches rotated backwards, while another on the same tier came forwards.

“Attack and defend,” he mused, “well this is certainly more interesting than beating up unmoving punching bags.”

“You will be expected to strike at certain tiers a set amount of times without being struck yourself each exercise,” Viktor instructed.

“I’ve got it,” Ren boasted, “I’ve beaten things way more intimidating than this. This’ll be easy.”

Ren tucked his arm in closely for a fighting stance. Light on his feet, he began to strike at the dummy. Quick punches and jabs were followed by the clank of Ren blocking the incoming branch with his knuckles. Lower strikes were answered by a quick step backwards to avoid the incoming attack. The whole ordeal seemed almost too easy for Ren. Almost.

When Viktor was sure that Ren had entered a comfortable pattern and had begun to tune the world out, he reached into his pocket and pushed a button on a remote. The whirl of machinery filled the air. Ren’s eyes darted around the room looking for the source, but he scarcely had more than a moment to look. The noise was coming from the dummy as the branches on the middle section spun around of their own accord. Without warning, Ren was struck in the side. He staggered back for a moment, gripping at his ribs a coughing painfully.

“What was that? I didn’t even hit there,” he stammered.

“Correct, you didn’t,” Viktor answered, “but real combat will not be as easy to predict as this training device is, so I modified it to better reflect that. I have control over it and can command it to attack even when such movement has not been triggered by your stimuli. Remain focused this time.”

Ren righted himself and approached the contraption again. He was more alert now, looking for signs of movement, both from the dummy and from Viktor. His ears were also listening for the same whirl of machinery that occurred last time. Despites his efforts, he would still find himself struck several more times before the day was over.

By noontime, Ren’s arms were bruised and sore. Relief had filled his body when Viktor called an end to the morning’s exercises so that they may break for lunch. Viktor hailed Ren over to a table in the corner of the room, upon which a tall smoothie waited. Much to Ren’s surprise, an apple cut with surgical precision rested on a plate next to it.

“Did you forget to put it in the blender?” Ren asked with an amused huff.

“I would not forget to include nutrients in your diet,” Viktor responded, “I intended for them to be that way.”

A puzzled look crossed Ren’s face.

“You mean to tell me you didn’t act efficiently on purpose? Who are you and what did you do with Viktor,” Ren ribbed.

“You will be sitting for the remainder of today’s lesson,” Viktor continued without acknowledging Ren’s jests, “so you will have the luxury of being able to eat at a leisurely pace as you study these.”

Viktor unrolled one of the dozens of pieces of paper he had set on the table. It was a blueprint for a simple prosthetic arm. In the corner, the insignia of a prestigious university in Piltover was emblazoned next to the name if the schematic “Clockwork Limb: Base.” Ren leaned over to get a better look at the clearly marked diagram.

“All of these documents are blueprints of common augmentations and prosthetics of Zaun and Piltover. You will study them, understand how they are assembled, and know where their weaknesses are. If you fight, these are what you will likely be facing.”

Ren nodded in understanding.

“I get it,” he said, “if I can take out their limb, I have already won.”

“You will gain an advantage, but it will not guarantee victory. It will be through both knowledge and your skill at arms that victory will be achieved.”

“Crystal.”

“Furthermore,” Viktor continued, “you will study these for another reason. Although I believe that your abilities are being squandered on frivolities, it would be inaccurate for me state that you possess no talent for illustration. If you were to apply yourself, you would be able to learn how to draw blueprints with my instruction.”

Ren’s ruddy cheeks seemed to glow with pride at the thought that Viktor though he possessed artistic talent. He said no more, but turned to blueprints and began to study them.

Below his mask, the faintest twitch of a smirk flickered across Viktor’s face.


	20. Chapter 20

A cool wind blew through Zaun that evening. It felt raw against Viktor’s face, unaccustomed to being uncovered, as he sat by his open window and it swirled the sweet aroma of anise up and through his chamber. Great puffs of steam rose from the depths of Zaun as factories let out a yawn as they shut down for the day. On the far side of the gorge, a glass elevator descended. Inside, a group of young men from Piltover chattered among themselves as they prepared for a night of indulgence in Zaun’s more raucous night life. Viktor took a sip from his sweet milk as he watched it disappear into the gorge.

He understood how they felt, at least partially. For all the glittering buildings and open skies the city above had, it could be as confining as Zaun’s narrowest alleys. Unspoken rules entangled its people. Who it was appropriate for you to be seen with, rigid expectations for social manners, and unflinching trade policies were just a few of the city’s unseen cages. But the ones that came to Viktor’s mind first were the restricting policies that had hampered his work in the name of morality.

Viktor scoffed. The notion of hindering objective progress in the name of subjective ideals was beyond foolish. He remembered how the college master surrounded themselves with a pitiless air as they expelled them. He hoped that they remembered him every time a dock diver died.

Another breeze flowed through the open window and disturbed the papers on Viktor’s desk. This distraction pulled Viktor’s mind from the dark place it was headlining. Viktor reorganized each paper into its proper pile with care. The last paper he placed on the top of the pile for subject N-12 was the illustration of Lady Science. In the corner of the page, Viktor had attached a small note. It read:

_“Subject presented this as a gift of gratitude.”_

Ren’s gift had struck Viktor as an odd reaction. Viktor had had acolytes before, and they had served him because of shared ideals. He had aided many patients, but their relationships were always a clinical relationship that would always end once they were mended. In both cases, repayment was impersonal, either providing money or grunt labor, but now his current subject was trying to return the favor in a more personal, albeit embarrassing, way.

The idea that Ren had tried to offer his illustration skills as payment made Viktor chuckle. He had asked for no additional payment other than to be a test subject, but Ren gave more anyways. Beyond what he had asked was more than what any of his acolytes had ever offered. Subject N-12 was proving to be more entertaining than he originally anticipated.

Viktor opened his notebook to write:

_“Subject’s progress is steady. Considering becoming more involved with training. Will begin preparations to spar subject myself.”_

But first, he needed supplies, and he knew the woman to see for them.


	21. Chapter 21

Deeper and deeper into Zaun Viktor descended. He was past the point where decent people lingered and the stench from a nearby sump pool filled the air with a noxious odor that stung the eyes. This hazardous haze did nothing to deter Viktor. His mask filtered out the toxic chemicals from the miasma so that only the faintest whiff of sulfur reached him.

Rats, with their fur singed off where the chemicals had touched them, scurried away from Viktor’s approach. These rodents were especially ugly specimens of their kind but were amazingly enough, completely parasite free. Not even fleas wanted to approach the sump. That did not mean, however, that this area was devoid of visitors.

A splash in the pool attracted Viktor’s attention. At the far side, a person with a metal basket tied to a pole was skimming through the filth in search of scrap. A cumbersome homemade mask enveloped his head and obscured any details of his face, but Viktor could tell that he was a boy not much older than Ren.

He left the youth alone but could not ignore the pang of frustration that he had felt at the sight.

_“I created Blitzcrank to prevent this. Zaun will never achieve its full potential if our progeny is poisoned before adulthood.”_

But Viktor had no time to dwell on this. He forced the thoughts from his mind so he could remain alert for signs of the woman he was looking for. And there in the cliff side, he spotted one. A narrow passage, wide enough for only a single man to pass through at a time, was cracked into the stone. Viktor gave a precautionary look around to ensure he wasn’t being followed and entered.

He made his way through the narrow passageway. The air began to grow cleaner as he progressed until the walls gave way to a circular chamber where the air was fresh and the sky above free of the Gray. A breeze whistled down the crater, making soft howling noises as it passed dozens of other hidden passages that would be accessible only to an expert climber. Viktor walked around the various piles of scrap that littered the floor. There was a pile for copper, a pile for iron, and a pile of pipes. It looked as though there was a pile for everything. And in the center of it all was a hovel built from scrap like a giant metal rat’s nest.

Before the home itself, laid one final pile; a small shrine with a statue of a bird in blue patina perched on it. Viktor knocked on the door. From behind it came scrambled cluttering of someone leaping to their feet.

“Who’s there,” a woman’s voice asked in alarm.

“It is Viktor, Moyna” he responded.

The sounds of footsteps approached the door and were followed by the clunking of locks being undone. Then with a creak of the rusted door, it pushed aside, revealing a short, nervous woman. She was the same age as Viktor, with dark eyes and hair the color of driftwood. Around her wrists rested a set of metal claws, curled back in waiting. Her nose twitched as she picked up the scent of the sump on him.

“Viktor,” she said, her expression growing more calm, “please come in. It has been too long since one of my favorite customers has paid me a visit. What brings you to my humble abode today?”

Humble was an appropriate word to describe her home. The interior, much like the exterior, was a mismatch of materials. Baskets of yet more scrap were piled high around the room, while the ceiling was occupied by strips of cloth listing the prices of various goods. But, if someone were to look beyond the piles of junk, they would notice that the shelves were a treasury of Zaun goods. High quality tools, augmentation replacement parts, ingots of pure copper, steel, and silver, and rare chemical mixtures stolen from the Chem-Barons themselves lined the shelves from top to bottom.

“I require chemical J-2918,” Viktor said as he followed her into her home.

Moyna began to shift through the shelves of chemicals.

“You haven’t needed this in a while **,”** she asked, “are you planning on getting into a fight?”

“Yes, I plan on experiencing melee combat in the future.”

Bottles clinked together as Moyna continued to search.

“Oh no,” she groaned, “you aren’t thinking of going and kicking another hornet’s nest are you? You caused a blackout to a whole district when you attacked that Matches gang on Emberflit Alley. It’s still a mess in their old hangout, nobody’s been there since.”

“The Matches planned on releasing a toxic gas into the vents of that district because the merchants refused to pay their protection fees. They were a tumor on Zaun and needed to be removed.”

“Such a good doctor you are. Ah, here it is, J-2918.”

Moyna pulled a growler from the shelf. The name of the original brew this container had once held had been scratched out, and now the J-2918 was chalked over it.

“How much do you need,” she asked.

“Double the usual amount.”

“Aww, you are going to fight another gang, aren’t you?”

Just as she was bringing the growler over, a strong gust of wind blew through her hideout and blew over a pile of scrap. The clang of toppling metal caused such a great noise that Moyna jumped back and the growler slipped from her hands. Instantly, her wrist mounted augmentation sprang to life. The claw tipped fingers flipped forward at incredible speed and caught the handle of the growler long enough for Moyna to snatch it back up. Moyna let out a shuddering sigh as she wiped the cold sweat that had appeared on her brow before slumping inter her chair behind the counter. After a few moments of silence, she began to reset her augmentation back to its ready position.

“When will you allow me to enact a more permanent solution for you,” Viktor asked.

The mousy woman shook her head.

“I need my fear, Viktor,” she said, “it’s difficult in daily life, yes, but when I’m on my missions, I need it to survive. It keeps me from making any unnecessary risks or over extending myself when danger is near. Thank you, but I think I’ll stick with you temporary solution for now. Speaking of which, did you bring it for payment?”

Viktor nodded and brought forth two vials, one empty and the other filled with a clear liquid, within which we dozens of minuscule silver spheres. Moyna snatched it from the table as though her life depended on it.

“Thank you, Viktor,” she said, “you have no idea how much this is worth to me.”

“No,” he replied, “but I have an idea.”

He tapped on his empty glass vial.

“Oh, yes.” Moyna responded as she began to measure out the valuable liquid.

“So,” she continued, “have you been working on anything new lately?”

“I have been improving upon my leg augmentation designs,” Viktor answered, “When I am satisfied with the results, I could trade you a new leg.”

“Oh no, I need to be careful what I put on my body. I don’t want to hempen my ability to shift and all that, but I appreciate you even considering a half-breed like myself for your Glorious Evolution.”

“And why shouldn’t someone of vastayan heritage seek to become better than they are?”

Moyna shrugged as she sealed the now full vial.

There was another crash outside, though this one did not bring with it a breath of fresh air. Moyna flinched alert at once. Her nose twitched as she strained to smell the air. Another moment and she had shifted. Her ears, now rounded a tufted with fur, picked up the sound of footsteps outside. With the muzzle that had grown from her nose, she could detect more in the air.

“I know that smell,” she squeaked, “they smell of the Chem-Baron’s factory! How did they find me? Were you followed? What-“

Viktor cut her off.

“If they have found you through a fault of my own, I shall amend it. Go, find your syringe and calm yourself.”

Moyna stopped pulling at her whiskers and nodded. With that, Viktor went to the door and stepped out into the gully. At the far end, he could see a pair of thugs emerging from the same passage he had used.

The two were goons in comparison to Viktor’s thin frame. Their bulky forms were shrouded in dark colors of their Chem-Baron master. Black hoods obscured their faces so that they looked more like Noxian executions of old. Where the masks were cut for eyeholes, goggles shone like the eyes of a wraith. This glow cast eerie shadows on the gas masks that had allowed them to pass through the miasma.

The larger of the two swung at one of Moyna’s scrap stacks, knocking it to the ground with his large metal arm.

“Get out here you rat,” he shouted, “our boss wants his chems back!”

Viktor had exited the hovel as calmly as he had entered it. He felt no fear in the presence of these thugs. Unlike Moyna, it was an emotion he had abandoned long ago. And so he approached them as he did any other obstacle, with a cold, calculating mind.

“I give you one opportunity,” Viktor dictated, “leave and forget you ever found this place. Return to your master and inform him you have failed to catch his thief.”

“Fat chance,” replied the thug with EXCTR-3 painted on his augmented arm, “the boss wants the rat’s head.”

His voice was ugly and garbled by his mask

“But we wouldn’t mind,” added the other with RTRVR-4 painted on his smaller augmentation, “if we had to knock yours about first.”

Without further preamble, the pair reached back and hit switches on their chem tanks. The pumps hissed as they injected their phosphorescent liquid into the thugs. Their bodies convulsed as they responded to this sudden stimulus. Viktor however, cared little for this and immediately turned his laser on them.

A jet of intense light burst from his third arm, charring the ground where the two men had been. They were unscathed though, for the chemicals took effect sooner than Viktor had anticipated and they were able to jump out of the way with surprising swiftness. The shorter of the two moved to close the gap between himself and Viktor.

A few long strides brought the RTRVR-4 within striking distance. He was faster than Viktor, but his speed left his attacks sloppy. He swung wildly and Viktor was easily able to sidestep these blows. During this all, Viktor felt a pang of annoyance that he had used his laser so early. Now, at point-blank range, would have been a more opportune time, but the machinery needed valuable seconds to recharge before another searing attack. Still, there was enough energy for a smaller attack.

A smaller, duller pulse of light left the mechanical arm. The thug raised his plated arm. The weakened laser left a small, black mark on the surface of the metal but did little else. Viktor knew he would have needed dozens of these smaller stings to do any lasting damage and that was something he did not have the time for. From the corner of his eye, Viktor saw the other thug charging the large weapon that made up his arm and shoulder.

With a crackling hum, the glow of electricity began to cloak EXCTNR-3’s limb. The focal point of this weapon was mounted to his forearm and sparks had begun to spray from the tip. Viktor wasted no time in responding. He launched a three pronged claw from his belt. In less than a heartbeat, the copper coated claw clasped about the charging weapon and Viktor attached the claw’s cable to his staff. The hissing of an electrical current filled the air. Had the thug’s face been visible, his expression would have clearly been etched with shock. The power of the electrical weapon was being siphoned, but even as its power waned, the crystal atop Viktor’s staff began to glow more intensely.

Soon, it was Viktor’s weapon that was radiating power. Satisfied with its thievery, the claw released the limb and was pulled back to its waiting position by a device similar to that which powered the arms of the famed Steam Golem. And it had all happened not a moment too soon.

Now with his staff glowing as though wreathed with St. Elmo’s fire, Viktor swung it at the brute before him. It connected with his chest and a great snapping noise echoed through the gully. The shock that surged through RTRVR-4’s body forced all his muscles to contract violently, throwing him backwards.

He crashed into a pile of scrap, sending bits of metal spinning in all directions. Not giving him a moment to recover, Viktor set upon him. He transferred the remaining stolen energy to his laser & fired a stronger blast. A pulse of purple plasma shot from Viktor’s third arm. Again, the thug raised his prosthetic to block, but this time the damage sustained was more than a black spot. A portion of the metal melted, exposing the limbs wiring, its veritable tendons & veins, to the air.

Viktor was prepared to finish his fight but he was forced to abandon his advantage. EXCTNR-3 had regained control of his limb & had activated its secondary weapon. He had been hesitant to use this new, still unstable weapon, but the results excited him. From a separate barrel mounted on his shoulder, a metal ball was fired at an alarming speed. Viktor only had a moment to move out of the way before a red-hot ball whizzed past. When it hit the ground, it spattered into a mess of hot slag.

This was all thanks to the newest concoction of the Chem-Baron’s labs. While the shots were primed, their chamber would be doused with this volatile new mixture that would set off a violent chemical reaction with the metal. The result was a molten metal projectile that had to be launched quickly. This of course forced EXCTNR-3 to sacrifice his accuracy, which saved Viktor as he had to keep moving to avoid the barrage of slag shots. No longer immediately threatened, RTRVR-4 freed himself from the heap and rejoined the fight.

RTRVR-4 had grabbed a lead pipe and swung like a madman. He kept his augmentation raised high as a shield against the barrage of Viktor’s weaker lasers. The lead pipe clanged as it connected with Viktor’s staff as the scientist blocked, staggering him. Viktor knew he was being pushed back towards another pile of scrap and decided to act quickly. He had to lower his staff momentarily so he could reach for another device. In that brief second, the pipe connected with his arm.

Had he had been a man of flesh and blood, his bones would have snapped under such a blow, but Viktor was not a normal man. The metal below his skin was dented and damaged, pain flared along the limb, but he could still use it. As he activated his trap, he knew it had been worth it.

The device snapped open, appearing like a metal flower with green lights at the tips of the petal. A low humming noise indicated that the device was working and soon the area above the metal flower was warped from a strong magnetic pull. RTRVR-4 felt as though gravity had been increased as the magnets pulled on his augmentations and slowed his advance to a crawl. He swore as he tried in vain to raise the lead pipe for another attack. Below his mask, Viktor’s face twitched into a grimace. However, he did not notice that EXCTNR-3 had again primed his electrical cannon.

But Moyna did. From atop her hovel, she fired an arrow that pierced the base of the cannon. Unlike most arrows, hers carried tiny chips that would release a small electromagnetic pulse upon impact, causing machinery they struck to malfunction. Such was the case with EXCTNR-3’s cannon, as it dispersed its charge all around it with a shower of sparks.

“It’s the rat,” shouted RTRVR-4.

But his partner didn’t respond. He had been knocked to the ground and stunned from the electrical bust. Moyna responded for him.

“Actually,” she said, “I prefer to be called a mouse.”

The woman’s eyes were hard and black as she starred down those hired to kill her. Another arrow was notched in her bow as she took aim at RTRVR-4. There was no trace of the skittish woman from before. A single drop of blood dripped from behind her rounded ear where she had injected one of Viktor’s silver beads.

“I can give you cover if you want to use that device,” Moyna said.

Viktor nodded. He had grown tired of this fight. There was a small metal box attached to his belt. He reached for it. RTRVR-4 was determined not to let his opponent have this mystery weapon and he started for Viktor immediately, with or without his partner’s aid. But Viktor had his ally, and she was faster.

With eyes unblinking, she tracked RTRVR-4’s movements, and when he placed his foot down one of her arrows pierced it. The thug bit back a cry of pain as he worked to remove the pinning shot. With spurts of blood, an arrow was freed while a second embedded itself in his other foot.

All while Moyna was toying with her would be assassin, Viktor prepared his device. The small drone was still in its experimental phase and Viktor could not suppress a small thrill with being able to use it. A field test would provide excellent results.

The drone was kept aloft by a large propeller towards its base. Above this, was a large glass container encircled by several bands of metal. Most impressively though, was the small hex core that glowed a cold blue within its glass home. The light grew more intense as Viktor moved his staff, and the larger hex core it was paired with, towards it. With a bright flash, both cores were glowing with the intensity of a bonfire.

“Obliterate,” he commanded.

The hex-tech core inside the glass rattled around as though it were an angry hornet. Everyone’s hair stood on end, and then it began.

_Crack-boom!_

The first shot resonated through like a thunder clap. It was soon followed by another discharge of electricity, then another. Within a second, the whole gully sounded as though it were in the center of a chaotic storm. Bolts struck piles of scrap, releasing dozens of sparks skittering away like phosphorescent spiders. Moyna had to shield her sensitive eyes from the destructive radiance. RTRVR-4’s mask adjusted automatically to the light, allowing him to see. What he saw terrified him.

Snapping bolts repetitively struck his partner, reviving him for his final moments. EXCTNR-3’s chem-tanks were shattered, his metal armor was blasted from him, and his augmentation, carrying that volatile chemical, exploded and coated the thug’s face in a molten death mask.

RTRVR-4 turned to run, uncaring of how the flesh tore from his foot as he ripped it from the pinning arrow. Viktor pointed his staff towards his drone and traced an invisible line through the air towards the fleeing assassin. The crystal within the drone pulsed with light and obeyed the command. 

_Bang!_

RTRVR-4 fell to the ground as the bolt struck him in the back. This was only the first strike. Another hit and burst his chem-tank. The next, charred his arm augmentation black. And after that, another burst the glass lens from his mask. This lasted only a few seconds, but it could have been an eternity for the doomed man as the electricity burnt and burst his skin.

With its energy expended, the glow of the drone diminished and it slowly floated to the ground. Viktor went to retrieve his device, a sense of calm satisfaction about him. He placed it back in its holder to recharge before going to stand over the body of RTRVR-4 and examine his device’s handiwork. But there was movement. He was alive.

The thug rolled over and tried to reach out at Viktor, but the augmentations on his limbs had short circuited and could only hang limply. Chemical solutions and blood pooled underneath the man in a sickening mixture. As Viktor looked on, he felt a horrendous mixture of pity and contempt building within himself. He knew what had to be done.

He approached the man. Emotions were pushed aside, and Viktor spoke in a cold tone.

“I had given you a chance to retreat and forget this place. You had squandered it. Now you will suffer the consequences of your actions.”

Viktor’s third arm had twitched alert and was humming with energy. The light from it could be seen reflected in RTRVR-4’s visible, terrified eye. There was a flash of white light.

* * * * *

“Would you look at this mess,” Moyna said as stood over the smoldering body, “it’s going to take days to get everything back to that neat mess I like so much.”

“It is regrettable,” Viktor commented.

Moyna brushed off the comment.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s two less assassins working for the Chem-Barons and I’ll be more careful next time. I’m grateful you were here.”

Viktor nodded. He then turned his attention to his damaged arm. The metal was bent and some of his mobility in the limb had been lost. He moved what he could back into place, but he knew he would need his workbench to fully repair himself.

“Go home, Viktor,” Moyna said, “I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

“You will be able to sufficiently clean on your own,” he asked.

“I’ll be fine, though I won’t be alone,”

She made a shrill whistling sound. Within moments, the scratching noise of countless claws on the stone responded. Moyna reached down to pick up the first rat that had reached her and stroked it affectionately.

“We’re scavengers after all, and one thing we’re good at is picking things clean.”

Viktor gave a curt nod and departed with his chemicals. Behind him, he could hear the clicking of tiny teeth.


	22. Chapter 22

Something was off about Viktor that day and Ren did not like it. When he had returned home the previous night, Viktor had ignored Ren and had retreated immediately for his workroom. The scientist had yet to emerge. Ren paced around the training room, carrying on a one sided conversation with Mary.

“Why does he need to be like this today, Mary,” Ren asked, “just when I was ready to show off my killer new paint job I did on the leg. I know, I know, that would just annoy him, but look, I was going to balance it out with some good news as well. I’ve gone through all those blue prints countless times and I bet I could even draw that basic leg schematic from memory. That would make him happy, or at least mildly pleased. You know?”

He looked to Mary for an answer but, unsurprisingly, the automaton said nothing.

“Of course you don’t,” he sighed, “you aren’t human, but neither is he really.” He walked up to Mary looked directly into her lensed eyes. “What we need to do is combine your robotic mind and my human one. Meet in the middle somewhere. What do you think?”

Again, silence.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Ren answered himself.

He returned to his pacing until the sound of his stomach growling was louder than the thud of his metal limb on the ground.

“Let’s grab some food. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

Mary followed Ren into the kitchen and watched him passively as he rummaged through the icebox and cabinets. His findings were the same as always: fruit, dried fruit, canned soup, and a single fresh vegetable. He groaned loudly as he swung the icebox closed. He slumped into a chair and began to begrudgingly eat an apple.

“I need something more filling. I swear, these things sometimes leave me hungrier than when I started. I bet if the Doc had more solid food, he’d eat it. But then again, this is a man whose height of cooking prowess is warming up some canned soup. I can cook better than that.”

Ren stopped talking. His eyes went wide.

“That’s it Mary,” he exclaimed, “I’ll cook us a dinner. Cheer him up, say thanks for the leg. He’d have to have replaced his stomach to refuse my cooking. He hasn’t replaced his stomach, has he? Eh, never mind. If the Doc hasn’t left his rooms yet, I doubt he will for the rest of the day. That should leave me some time to go out and get what I need. If he does leave, I need you and Percy to cover for me. You guys will do that, right?”

Silence.

“I am so glad I can count on you.”

With his mind made up, Ren was off like a shot. He grabbed his bag, money, and a few sketches, in case he extra time to sell, and bolted out the door to the elevator. His metal toes tapped in time in with the gears of the lift as he descended into Zaun.

Ren weaved through the familiar streets until he found himself at one of Zaun’s largest food markets, the Victuals Plaza. This immense spider web of stalls and stores spread out from a central elevator that moved food between the two cities at all hours of the day. Ren loved this place. Every type of person in Zaun came here for food, from Chem-Barons to sump-scrapers. And for every type of person, there was a food.

Ren breathed deeply the various scents. Fragrant lavender perfumed the air from where a woman sold these purple blossoms she had grown in her cultivar. Further down the way, an older man wan was selling a hot out of the fryer apple cider donut to a mother with an excited child, and next to that, a stall that sold honey from all over Runeterra was entertaining the son of a Chem-Baron.

Baskets of fruits & vegetables passed by Ren as he strode down the walk ways. He collected waxy onions, fresh cabbages, dried beans, potatoes, carrots, celery, savory pork sausages, a single fragrant bay leaf, and about a dozen hard candies. A contented hum vibrated in his throat as he looked at the collection of goods gathered in his sack. He only wished he had more space to collect a handful of dried mushrooms from one stall run by a pair of twins with thick glasses tinted the green of Zaun’s glass.

Ren was about to leave when a heavy, meaty aroma caressed his nostrils. He sighed deeply & followed the fragrance to a restaurant. There, displayed tantalizingly in the front window, was the most decadent food he had ever eaten, schweinshaxe, fried pig knuckles.

Four rows of pig knuckles were being roasted in a rotisserie style over the soft glow of a charcoal flame. Fat dripped down from meat on the top row onto the skins of those below it, before dripping down to the row after that, and so on. This left the meat with a crispy skin that glistened with fatty oil and provided a slight crunch to the salty meat below. Even though he knew he did not have money to afford one, it still took a great deal of willpower for Ren to look away. He promised himself though, that next time he did have the money for one, he would be back.

Ren gave a quick glance at the clock attached to the elevator shaft. The time was growing late. It was too late for him to sell any of his art, but not so late that he couldn’t stop by to visit his friends. Without further hesitation, Ren made for the favorite hangout of Freckles and Curly. All he had to do to find this place was ride the elevator up two stops and follow his nose.

A large candle factory dominated this district. It made the air heavy with aromas and all the walls of the surrounding buildings had a waxy sheen to them. Though it was impossible to smell the stench of the Gray here, many people still chose to avoid this area because of its confused aroma. Vanilla mingled freely with fresh orange or lime fragrances, but then these fruity fragrances could also clash horrifically with the earthy smell of musk or sticky pine. On rare and terrifying occasions, the factory would attempt to use the latest chem-tech machinery to accurately duplicate other smells that shouldn’t exists as candles at all, such as buttered popcorn or a salt marsh at low tide.

This left many of the residential buildings with one or two vacant rooms, and it was in one of these rooms that some of Zaun’s street kids set themselves up a little hideout. Freckles and Curly both loved to come here. Freckles would love to try and pick apart the fragrance notes of the air while Curly, ever the wishful dreamer, liked to imagine up his own perfume ideas. Because of this, Ren was pleased to find the two of them sitting on the rooftop attempting to coax a pigeon to eat from their hands.

At Ren’s approach, the bird took off. The kids whipped around to see what had scared the animal and their faces lit up. Freckles tried to feign anger over the scared off bird, but her impish smile kept her from looking the part.

“And there is goes,” she said, “we were so close to getting it. Wasted a whole bag of chips on that stupid bird.”

“Well,” Ren said as he took a seat next to them, “I can’t do anything about the bird or your chips, but maybe these can be a replacement for them?”

Ren pulled the candies from his bag. The final traces of Freckles’s fake anger vanished and Curly clapped his hands together in delight.

“Cavernberry, you know that’s my favorite flavor,” Curly exclaimed.

Ren nodded and passed out the divided up the wrapped cadies between the three of them.

“So how did you get up hear so quickly,” Freckles asked, “I didn’t have time to hear you?”

“You know I’ve always been a half decent climber,” Ren stated matter-of-factly.

“But now you’re all decent, then,” Curly chimed in, “you’ve been practicing.”

Ren shrugged.

“Only kinda,” he explained, “I’ve been building back my strength, yes, but the Doc and I have also been improving on my augmentation.”

“Your prosthetic?” Curly asked.

Ren nodded and began to roll up his pants leg to proudly display the shinning limb.

“Yeah,” Ren affirmed, “he’s been focusing on its flexibility. He’s almost got it as good as toes. But while he’s been working on that, I’ve been working on something more impressive,” Ren used this moment to pull back the rest of the covering in one swift movement, “boom, killer flame paint job to match my tattoo.”

Ren’s face was set with a smug pride as his displayed his handiwork. Red and gold stylized flames spiraled around his limb. He had painted each with a dark, black outline so that they popped all the more intensely on that experiment which he was supposed to keep secret. Ren didn’t care though. He loved his flames; no matter how often Viktor had told him that they looked tacky, and having them painted on his augmentation made it feel more like a natural part of him.

“As artistic as ever,” a voice called out.

Ren’s head whipped around at the familiar voice. He was unable to suppress a smile when he saw the voice’s owner.

“Ekko,” Ren said.

He was on his feet in an instant and went to meet his friend in an embrace. A small, contented sigh escaped him as he gave Ekko a clap on the shoulder before parting. Ren gave him a quick look up and down. Ekko seemed unchanged for a young man ever improving himself. He still wore the same look of confidence, still dressed in the same street style of his city, and still smelled of grease and waxy hair products. For Ren, seeing Ekko like this was like stepping back in time. He had that effect on people.

“Where have you been,” Ren asked, “and don’t tell me that you didn’t have the time.”

“Where have I been,” Ekko responded, “where have you been is the better question? I searched for you for days. We all thought you were dead.”

“I did fall pretty far. But that doesn’t matter now, it’s in the past. I’m alive and better than ever. Check this out!”

Ren presented his leg with the upmost pride.

“I know how you feel about augmentations,” Ren continued, “but they told me you found my toe, so you should understand that I needed a new leg. The expression is back on your feet, not back on your foot. So here I am with a new and possibly better leg.”

“It’s impressive,” Ekko admitted, “but better than your own leg? I find it hard to believe that you honestly prefer this over your own flesh and blood. And, you still haven’t answered my question. Where have you been? Curly and Freckles told me they saw you and I went and checked every hangout and couldn’t find you.”

Ren gave a quick shrug. 

“He’s been staying with his doctor,” Curly cut in.

“Doctor,” Ekko mused, “I didn’t know you had a doctor.”

“I do now,” Ren replied, “he’s the charitable sort. He’s a student, and he offered to work on my leg for free if he can submit it as a final project. I had no money and the Doc needed a passing grade, so things worked out.”

“I understand,” Ekko said, “but please,” he continued tone tinged with fake whining, “please, tell me you didn’t give your body to science for a Piltie.”

“Of course not,” Ren snorted, “this leg is Zaun through and through.”

Ekko gave an approving nod and leaned in closer to inspect the limb. Ren continued to talk.

“Look all you want, Ekko. You won’t see another like it. It’s one of a kind, and not just because of my paint job. It’s a cutting edge, brand new, rocket leg! You should see how I can kick with this thing, or climb, or jump. With that little extra boost I bet I could even make that jump.”

Ekko nodded, only half listening. He knew how Ren could ramble on, and he wanted his attention focused on the augmentation before him. He quickly realized that Ren wasn’t exaggerating when he called the limb cutting edge. The craftsmanship was of the highest caliber, constructed with beyond human precision. Ekko found it difficult to believe that any student in Zaun would have crafted anything this sophisticated without him hearing about. If he had heard, he would have taken the news to his parents immediately, to show them that the academies here were just as good as those in Piltover. But he had not heard anything, and he had a sinking sensation that he had seen handiwork like this before.

Then his eyes caught something on the limb’s calf. It was small, no larger than his thumb nail, and appeared to be a defect. Ekko ran his finger over the scratch. It, like everything else, was intentional and had been etched in with care. Craning his head around, Ekko caught a better look at the symbol. A gear was the maker’s mark of this limb, and within this etched gear, was another smaller image. Ekko’s brow furrowed as he looked at this familiar mark, when suddenly, something Ren said had grabbed his attention.

“Isn’t it glorious?”

Ekko’s head shot up.

“What did you say?”

“Isn’t it glorious,” Ren repeated, “the leg, a second chance to live, everything.”

Ekko gave a non-committal hum as an answer. The dreaded recollection of where he had seen that mark before had come back to him. It was on the augmentations of those who had claimed that they were part of a Glorious Evolution, those who had attempted to persuade him to come with them and, when that failed, had attempted to forcefully bring him before their master. Viktor.

A scowl pinched at Ekko’s features. He wished that he could jump back in time and forget that realization, but it would be a fruitless endeavor. He could never forget knowledge. This was something he would have to deal with eventually, but not now. He didn’t want to sour his reunion with his friend nor jump to conclusions about who Ren had been associating with during his absence. Ekko resolved to wait, if only to not make a scene in front of Curly and Freckles.

Ren noticed the change in Ekko’s expression.

“What’s wrong,” he asked.

“Something small,” Ekko answered, “it looks like you have a scratch or something on it.”

Ren pulled his leg up in a panic.

“Oh jeez, I hope not. The Doc would not like that,” a realization hit him, “and he also wouldn’t like it if I were late. Time, time, what’s the time.”

Ren looked to the large clock above the candle factory’s entrance.

“It’s getting a little late for comfort, I should head out,” Ren said as he gathered his belongings to him, “Ekko, next time I have a free day, we should do something together, maybe do some reclaiming from a Chem-Baron’s personal dump. That’s always good for some fun finds.”

“Yeah, sounds great. I miss doing that stuff too,” Ekko said and he hoped that all his fears would be proven false so that he and Ren could go back to things as they were.

“Alright,” Ren said cheerfully, “see you later.”

He quickly bestowed a quick noogie on the heads of both Curly and Freckles before taking off. After a quick pause at the edge of the building, he kicked off with his augmented leg and its rocket, clearing the gap between buildings with ease. The two kids smiled with delight at Ren’s fire, but Ekko was unmoved. Something was off about Ren that evening and Ekko did not like it.


	23. Chapter 23

Eventually, Viktor could no longer ignore the protests of his hungry body. He had been working in a furor, hardly taking the time to eat or sleep and definitely not checking the time. All those things seemed negligible in the face of his new drone’s field test. He recorded every detail of the device’s effects on the body with clinical detail and had begun a page of notes filled with ideas for improving the design. The only thing that had delayed him was the repairs he had to make to himself after the skirmish. But now, he was forced to take a break.

He wrote a final line, “further tests required”, and left his work for the day. His human muscles ached as he stood while his machine parts gave no protest. Food would satiate the needy half of him, so to the kitchen he descended. As he approached, the aroma wafting from the kitchen surprised him. Even with his mask filtering the air he breathed, a savory smell, the likes of which had never come from that room before, reached him. He pushed open the door to find Ren busy at work over the stove.

A large pot was simmering before the young man. Fragrant steam was rising over the rim and the faint noise of bubbles popping could occasionally be heard. A mess of scraps from the chopped vegetables was piled next to a cutting board, and Viktor could make out the bright oranges and greens of carrot skins and celery leaves mixed in among the dull browns of potato skins and onion hairs.

Ren turned with a start at Viktor’s intrusion, startled out of his cooking peace, but quickly regained his calm.

“And he finally shows himself,” Ren ribbed, “I was starting to think you had abandoned me or your batteries ran out or something like that.”

At the moment, Viktor was less concerned with Ren’s foolish chatter than he was with the large amount of food that was suddenly in his kitchen.

“N-12, where did this all come from?”

“You could at least add ‘chef’ before N-12,” responded Ren, “but you don’t need to worry, I didn’t steal it. I bought it with my own money.”

“Money. You had none when I brought you here,” a realization hit Viktor, “you went outside.”

“I know you’re probably upset,” Ren cut in quickly, “but again, I didn’t steal the money, I earned it in a totally legal way. Secondly, I know I wasn’t followed back. I was wicked careful. Nobody was going to pay attention to a sumpsnipe like me. Thirdly, I wanted us to have a decent meal.”

Viktor stood silently, processing what he had just heard.

_“My subject, deceitful. Hunger driven. Unacceptable. Actions were not malicious, though. Subject did return of own free will. Should still have repercussions.”_

It was time for answers.

“Why did you leave without permission? Did you think that this was acceptable behavior?”

“I’m sorry,” Ren said, “I knew you would be cross, but I’ve been here for almost two months. I was getting cabin fever. I probably should have asked you first.”

“Indeed you should have,” Viktor’s tone remained harsh, “next question, where have you been?”

“At the Victuals Plaza. I wanted to get us something nice to eat.”

“Another question. Why would you allocate your funds and your time on something as frivolous as this?”

“It’s cabbage stew, not exactly what I would call a frivolous meal, but if you must know why I put all this effort in, it was because I wanted to do something nice for you. I know I would be dead without you and I don’t think my first gift to you was a big hit, so I thought I would try this. It’s healthy, don’t need to worry about nutrition, and it’s a soup so you won’t have to worry about frivolous forks or knives. Think of it like the dinner you made for me but way better because it’s not from a can.”

Viktor paused.

_“Not motivated by gluttony. Another example of generosity.”_

His tone softened slightly for his next question.

“Where did you acquire the funds for this?”

A smile crossed Ren’s face.

“Well, some people like my art enough to pay for it.”

Viktor had heard enough.

Ren gave the stew a final swirl, filling the air with the scent of the bay leaf and onion anew. He filled two bowls to the brim and set them on the table with spoons and glasses of water. It wasn’t a handsome meal, but Ren beamed with pride at the setting before him.

“It’s ready,” he announced as he took his place at the table and looked expectantly at Viktor. “We should eat it while it’s hot. Relax, enjoy the food. Please?”

Much to Ren’s delight, Viktor sat down.

“ _Why do I feel I owe him this? Odd”._

Viktor removed his mask and the scent of the stew filled his nostrils unfiltered. The prominent notes of the bay leave and onion mingled happily with the savor tones of the ground pepper and thyme that had been mixed in with the fatty sausage. The color of the stew was as ruddy as Ren’s cheeks were and was far less oily than the canned soup had been. Beans, carrots, and cabbage made the stew thick and hearty. Viktor could not remember if he had ever cooked himself as meal as rich as this.

Ren was already enjoying his meal with gusto, but he completely froze when he saw Viktor take his first bite. He studied Viktor’s face with such a fascinating intensity that the scientist could not help but briefly wonder if that was how others perceived his gaze.

“So,” Ren asked in an uncharacteristically nervous voice, “how is it?”

“It is serviceable,” Viktor answered.

“Serviceable? That’s it?”

“That was a compliment, N-12. The food is nutritious, as you said, and the flavor does not offend me. It is serviceable.”

Viktor noticed Ren’s expression sinking and added a few more words to what he already considered was a glowing review.

“You do display an understanding for how flavors mix with each other and have demonstrated proficiency with food preparation. Nothing is overdone or underdone. In conclusion, your cooking is of a higher quality than the canned soup.”

Ren chuckled.

“Crystal. Feedback isn’t your strongest skill, but still, it’s nice to know you enjoy my cooking more than my illustrations, but that might change. Keep eating, but also look at this.”

Ren pulled out the blueprint he had copied and laid it on the table.

“I near perfect match,” he continued, “and it’s from memory. I’ve almost got the base arm memorized as well, oh, and I did this one for fun.”

He placed down a smaller drawing showing the construction of Mary’s hand.

“I didn’t want to take her apart, so I had to guess on some of the inner workings, but like I said, that was for fun. I want to know your thoughts on how the leg is and please, don’t say serviceable again.”

Ren was not exaggerating when he said it was a near perfect copy. His practiced hands were well adapted at drawing the mechanical limb and smaller illustrations of the nuts and bolts that held it together.

“Your work is adequate.”

“Oh, adequate, that’s almost the same thing.”

“Adequate is not a bad thing, N-12.”

Ren looked up in shock.

“Are those words of encouragement or did I imagine that?”

Viktor took another spoonful of his stew rather than directly answer that question.

“Adequate,” he continued, “means that I am satisfied with your progress. Your markings for scale still need improvement. This should excite you. You can still improve and I expect you to.”

Ren’s felt warmth in his cheeks.

“Woah, I didn’t imagine that at all. Now I feel kinda bad about what I’m about to say but I would feel worse keeping it a secret from you.”

Now it was Viktor’s turn to look up from his meal, though he wore a face of stern concern rather than shock.

“What do you need to tell me?”

Ren stuck out his leg and rolled up his pants to reveal his custom paint job. The bright flames stood out vibrantly against the dark metal.

“More tacky flames,” Viktor commented.

There was no anger in his voice but without his mask on Ren could see the disapproval on his face.

“For the record, I wanted to show you this before the blueprint so that you would have something to feel good about after. Please, just know that I used good quality paint. It won’t rust or run.”

“It still adds excess weight.”

“All my effort,” Ren grumbled.

Viktor looked down into the stew and pondered for a moment.

“ _Effort. That is the most applicable term for subject N-12. Subject puts effort into everything. Recovery, training, studying, illustrations, cooking, even showing gratitude. Has made teaching him easy. This trait is not present in all humans. Should encourage it. Still cannot allow excess weight throwing off my calculations though. Compromise.”_

“If you desire your tacky designs you may keep them,” Viktor said, “but only if you are willing to put in the effort to. You will remove that paint completely and then you will be allowed to apply new designs with the paint I approve of.”

Ren’s face lit up as though an electric shock surged through it.

“Yes! Thanks, Doc!”


	24. Chapter 24

The two combatants stood at opposite sides of the training room preparing themselves. Moyna’s solution coated each of their augmentations, giving them a dull shine. Ren starred down at the gear knuckles on his hands nervously. Viktor had said that the chemical they had applied would help protect their limbs, but the glint of the serrated edge still put Ren at unease. He had never considered himself the type of person to attack his benefactor.

Viktor on the other hand was completely calm about their encroaching match. After two hit men, what challenge would a single boy pose, even if he was a boy with a powerful augmentation? Certainly, it was not enough to require his entire arsenal of gadgets. His staff and third arm would be sufficient.

Viktor tapped his staff to the ground. “Enough hesitating,” he said, “enter the ring.”

The ring was a section of the room that Viktor had marked off by scorching a line in the floor with his laser. Such a permanent change told Ren that this was only to be the first of many sparring matches. Ren reluctantly approached the blackened edge.

“What happened to the swagger you were touting last night, N-12,” Viktor inquired as he took his place opposite the ring, “you were eager for a chance to fight.”

“I was, am,” Ren answered, “but is all this necessary, Doc? I don’t want to hurt you.”

He held up his weapon clad hands for emphasis.

“Do not concern yourself with my safety,” Viktor instructed, “focus on yourself.”

Ren rolled his shoulders and took a fighting stance.

“Crystal, suit yourself.”

Ren tapped his foot as he looked at his opponent. Viktor was so scrawny that Ren was convinced he would topple him with only a few blows. So he studied, looking for a safer angle of attack, when Viktor took the first move. There was a quick whir of machinery and a bright flash before Viktor’s laser sent out a searing ray of energy. Ren was quick on his feet though, and easily jumped aside to avoid it. The attack left a black scorch mark where Ren’s augmented foot had been moments before.

“You know I hold the advantage at a range,” Viktor chastised, “cease wasting our time.”

“Alright, but remember, you asked for this.”

Ren cleared the distance between them in a few heartbeats. He pulled back one arm and prepared to strike, one little hit to the shoulders. He was about to strike, when Viktor’s staff came around faster than Ren had believed Viktor could move, and struck him in the chest. Ren staggered backwards coughing as he tried to return the wind to his chest.

“I do not recall asking for a pathetic display,” came Viktor’s cold voice.

Now Ren was angry. He began his assault in earnest. Quick jabs, feinting high with one hand and striking low with the other, and backhanded swings all flew from his fists. The ring of metal on metal filled the room. Viktor met them all with equal zeal, blocking with both his staff and part of his forearm that he had strengthened after his previous encounter. His metal limbs absorbed Ren’s light blows painlessly and, if he so chose, Viktor could angle his arm to graze Ren’s fingers, causing the sensitive digits to throb painfully. Still, Ren did not relent as he stubbornly blocked out the pain. It was only another shot from the laser that forced him to back off.

Ren stood back and began to tap his foot again.

_One. Two. Three. . ._

He had counted a whole thirteen seconds before Viktor again had to use his laser to prompt him to action. Ren kept that number in his head as he moved around Viktor and peppered him with light but easily defendable attacks. Viktor was growing annoyed.

_One. Two. Three. . . Ten._

“I am disappointed with what I am observing,” the scientist chastised.

Ren saw the arm become primed for another shot, but now glow emanated from the palm and no attack came. His eyes were fixed on the spot and his legs were ready to leap at a moment’s notice as he mentally continued to count.

_Thirteen._

There was the light! Ren couldn’t suppress the smirk that came to his face. He shifted his fighting stance and his eyes glinted with eagerness. His prediction had been right. This model required thirteen whole seconds to recharge to full power.

“Well,” he boasted, “prepared to be un-disappointed.”

Viktor found that he had only moments to react before Ren’s next attack. With the use of his rocket leg, he was able to leap the gap between them in one jump. Ren landed heavily, but continued his attack immediately with an upward cut. Their metal clanged against each other as Viktor blocked Ren’s attack with his staff. Ren pulled his arm back, and then swung again from the side, forcing Viktor to block this blow with his staff once more. Now that his staff was to the side, Viktor’s chest was open for an attack. Ren didn’t waste another second. He delivered a roundhouse kick to Viktor’s side.

_Thirteen._

Viktor had stumbled backwards after the kick and had to use his staff to catch himself with. He was not angry from being struck, but he was surprised. He looked over at Ren, who was once again tapping his foot, and observed his fighting stance, loose and relaxed, but with focused, calculating eyes.

“That was closer to my expectations,” Viktor said, “but one kick will not win you a fight.”

“Oh, I know,” Ren responded, “I’m just getting started.”

This time the first attack came from Viktor. He was not as quick as Ren, but he didn’t need to be. His laser cut across the ground in the direction Ren had intended to step. Ren jumped back as the ground inches from his toes turned black and charred. His arms were up to guard a moment later as Viktor’s staff came flying towards him. His forearms caught the blow.

He grunted in pain through clenched teeth. Even with protective padding, Ren knew that this would bruise tomorrow. It only seemed kind to return the favor. He rechambered one of his arms and unleashed it in a quick jab to Viktor’s gut. The blow was quick and easily slipped by the staff, but it had left Ren exposed. Without a second arm to guard, the staff swung around and caught him in the shoulder.

Ren cursed. That exchange had not been worth it. He could attack Viktor all day with strikes that would seriously weaken others, but thanks to Viktor’s countless augmentations on his insides, most of these attacks weren’t giving Ren the reaction he was hoping for.

_"Then I just need to hit him in a place that hurts robots too."_

The thirteen seconds were up again, so Ren approached cautiously. Viktor responded in much the same manner. He would conserve his laser for when he needed it rather than waste it on spurring the boy into action. And so, they slowly circled closer to each other before another burst of explosive movement.

As before, Ren used a boost from his leg to help close the distance. He leapt to the right of Viktor, and feigned with a punch towards his shoulder. Viktor swatter his fist away, but Ren was unfazed, since that was never his intended target. The way Viktor had had to move to block the punch caused his cape to flutter upwards and right into the grasp of Ren’s other hand. Seizing his opportunity, Ren grabbed the fabric and yanked hard.

“Pompous cape,” he said, “meet tacky tattoos!”

He pulled Viktor off balance buying him the precious seconds he needed to charge his leg. The sweep came strong and fast, smashing into the side of Viktor’s knee. Such a blow would have instantly crippled a human. The metal at the knee bent and Viktor buckled over, but he did not fall. Now Viktor had a momentary advantage since the kick left Ren off balance for a heartbeat. It was a heartbeat spent bringing his staff down on the top of Ren’s shoulder. Stars danced in Ren’s eyes as he felt pain shoot through his arm.

Viktor forced himself upwards, even if it was at an awkward angle. He knew he should call the match; he had felt Ren’s shoulder dislocated under the force of the blow and his own leg was straining to support him. But still, he wanted to knock Ren one more time for all the repairs he would have to do later.

Ren had choked down his cries of pain. He shook the stars out of his eyes to refocus himself on Viktor. His arm begged him to tap out, but his heart was set on slugging the Doc one more time in payback. He had survived the pain of his leg being mangled, so he could endure his shoulder for a few moments.

They met in the middle of the ring for the final clash. Viktor brought his staff downwards in a swing with both hands. Ren met the blow with his geared knuckles and caught it in their teeth. The two struggled against each other with their weapons locked. Ren knew that he was physically stronger than Viktor, but with his injured shoulder, he could feel himself steadily losing. He needed to make one more desperate attempt at Viktor’s damaged leg, and that’s when it happened.

Ren twisted his hands to throw off the staff, but the teeth of one of the gears caught on the power wire wrapped about it. With a tug, the serrated edges sliced through the protective coating and cut the wires within. A shower of sparks erupted from the wire as though it were a bleeding artery. The two both started back surprised from the stinging sparks.

“I’m,” Ren stammered, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. I, maybe we should stop now.”

Ren ripped the geared knuckles from his hands and threw them on the ground. Viktor looked form his staff to his leg, to Ren, who had begun to shake from exhaustion and pain. He placed the staff on the ground.

“It was a hazard I accepted when I arranged this match,” Viktor replied, “I have obtained the data I wanted. Follow me, I will show you how to make repairs.”

Ren picked himself up and shuffled off after Viktor, who was limping towards his private rooms with his own awkward gait. In their minds they each berated themselves for attacking the other as viciously as they did and vowed not to do so next time.


	25. Chapter 25

Even with his leg damaged, Viktor couldn’t help but straighten up with pride as they both limped into his personal workspace. Unlike the large machines in the factory below, the tools here were designed for precise, delicate work; the kind of work that could turn a great augmentation into an excellent augmentation. A soft hum filled the room thanks to the countless machines within, but Ren didn’t notice it over the throbbing of his arm.

“My workbench,” Viktor said and then began to trudge in that direction.

He sat heavily in his chair and began to the clear the space before him. With his third arm, he beckoned Ren over.

“I will tend to your shoulder first,” he said, “flesh can be impatient, and the sooner your bones are back in place, the sooner we can reduce the swelling.”

Ren nodded and pulled a nearby stool up next to Viktor. He winced as Viktor began to feel around his injured arm.

“Do not fidget,” Viktor ordered, “a displaced shoulder is something I can mend with ease. Or, do you think I will suddenly want vengeance for my staff?”

“It’s nothing like that,” Ren said through gritted teeth, “I trust you know what you’re doing. I wouldn’t call you ‘Doc’ otherwise. It’s just; trust doesn’t make it magically stop hurting.”

“I can always replace it with a metal limb. You won’t feel anything pain in it after that.”

“Great joke, but no thank you.”

“You know I never make jokes.”

“Yeah, but still, I like my arms all fleshy feely. I like to touch things and experience texture. You understand, right? I mean, looks like you still haven’t completely given up on that sense yet yourself.”

Ren had made a point. Of Viktor’s four limbs, one arm was still mostly flesh, and it was with this limb that Viktor was examining Ren. Ren was going to press his point, but was cut off suddenly by a gasp of pain.

“Ahh, ah! I think you found the spot!”

“I told you not to fidget,” was Viktor’s response as he pushed the shoulder back into place.

With a pop, Ren’s shoulder was back as it should be. Ren gave a sigh of relief. Viktor motioned for him to stay still as he retrieved a vial and clear syringe.

“It is a painkiller,” Viktor explained as he filled the syringe, “tomorrow I will find the most appropriate medicine for you. I will also have a sling for your arm and will advise you to keep your arm in it for several days, though I doubt you will heed that advice.”

“You know me so well Doc, thanks,” Ren said as he finally mustered the strength to smile.

“Pay attention,” Viktor continued, “so that you can learn to repair our augmentations.”

Viktor reached down and removed his own leg and placed it on the table before them. He pulled out a metal wand attached to a chem-battery and turned it on. As electricity sparked down its length, Viktor began to run the tool over his leg. Hairline cracks appeared instantly wherever the wand touched, but this did not worry Viktor in the slightest.

“That chemical we applied to our augmentations earlier,” Viktor explained, “needs to be removed before we can begin the repairs.”

To show his point, Viktor ran a hard bristled brush over his leg and the coating flaked off with ease. He then handed the tools over to Ren.

“Place your limb here. I want you to do it for yourself.”

Ren removed his own leg and placed it next to Viktor’s. He then lost track of time.

Ren didn’t know how long he and Viktor sat over that workbench. For minutes or hours, he worked with Viktor, repairing their limbs. He learned how to remove dents and repair wiring, smooth surfaces with a rotary tool and chemical solution, and many more skills in between. It wasn’t until his leg was repaired and once again attached to his body that he let himself look up from the workbench. He stood and stretched his stiff body. All the aches of the day’s sparring match were starting to poke through the painkiller Viktor had given him. However, the pain wasn’t so bad that Ren didn’t allow himself to look about the room as Viktor worked silently on his augmentations.

Viktor’s work room was about what Ren had expected, clinically neat and organized. The bookcases were all labeled and sorted by topic and project. Locked cabinets contained Viktor’s collection of chemicals. The far wall had a framed poster of the anatomical man with a massive blackboard covered in sketches next to it. One drawing Ren noticed looked like plans for an upgraded version of his leg. But even that didn’t hold his attention for long.

None of these things were what Ren was hoping to see. He wanted to find something more personal and, if he was completely honest, his illustration of Lady Science pinned up. He searched harder. There had to be something here that could give him a glimpse into the Doc’s personal life, if he had one at all. At last, Ren found it.

On a shelf labeled “Golems and Automatons” there was a photo. It showed a young man with dark hair and tinted work goggles standing next to a bulky steam golem. Ren assumed that the man was Viktor, but found that hard to believe. The man in the photo looked lighter, cheerier, and had visible skin. Equally amazing, the golem, a thing that couldn’t change its expression, also looked cheerful, with its hand raised in a greeting. Ren turned the pictured frame over. A note on the back had a date and the words “Another successful cleanup” printed on it.

“Hey Doc,” Ren asked, “who’s this?”

Viktor looked up from his repairs.

“The golem’s name is Blitzcrank,” Viktor answered, “now, put the photo back down.”

“Blitzcrank? The Blitzcrank? The greatest golem this city has ever made? You’ve met him?”

“I made him.”

“What? No way! I totally believe you, but I thought it was built by-”

“You will not speak that thief’s name in this building!”

Viktor cut him off suddenly and with such venom in his voice that Ren was speechless. Ren put the photo back and bit his lips. After an uncomfortable minute, Viktor began to speak again.

“You would enjoy Blitzcrank’s company,” Viktor said, his voice one again steady, “he is exceedingly bright and one of my most amicable acquaintances. It has been too long since we spoke with each other last. I should check on his progress, see how his thought processes have evolved.”

“So you can just invite the city’s most famous golem to your secluded lair?”

“I can. I am his creator and when we last saw each other, we departed on amiable terms.”

“That’s so wild.”

“The idea that Blitzcrank is aware enough to accept invitations is so exotic to you? You were speaking a moment ago as though you knew of his many accomplishments. The ability to accept invitations pales in his ability to analyze chemical disasters and effectively clean them.”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, Blitzcrank’s abilities are amazing, but that’s not what I’m blown away by.”

“Then what intrigues you?”

“You have a friend.”


	26. Chapter 26

Ekko hated the anxious feeling that filled him. It wasn’t like how he felt when one of his friends attempted another reckless stunt. That was nervousness. If they failed, he could always rewind time and fix it. No, this feeling was far worse because if something was wrong, he couldn’t go back and fix it. This past was set in steel, and he hated how the certainty of that fact spelled uncertainty for his future. 

The draining pang of dread tugged on Ekko’s stomach as he waved ‘good-bye’ to Ren. The three of them had had a pleasant afternoon. Curly had left a note at one of their usual hangouts, summoning them to his little apartment. There, he had proudly displayed how his first strand of facial hair was growing in. His ‘beard,’ as he called it, was in reality little more than a single stiff hair growing from a mole on his cheek, but Ren gave it the upmost pomp and ceremony. The two of them had spent the next whole hour teaching him how to shave. But despite this appearing to be Ren acting his usual merry self, Ekko could sense his friend changing.

They were subtle changes. Ren had always been a show-off, but more and more, he shifted the praise from his own, earned skills to the craftsmanship of his leg. The subjects of his illustrations began to include humans with augmentations. His eyes would pass appraisingly over the augmentations of others. But most alarming of all, Ekko feared that he overheard Ren advocating for replacing a limb to another young boy.

Others had told Ekko that he shouldn’t worry and that this was all just a phase Ren was going through. These words did little to comfort him. Ekko knew that once Ren had decided that he liked something, that was it. He still had the same favorite food since he was eight, and he still stubbornly insisted that sour lemon candy was better than spicy cinnamon.

When Ren had disappeared from sight, Ekko began to pace.

“What’s wrong,” Curly asked.

Ekko sighed and looked down at the pale kid beside him.

“ _He really looks up to Ren,_ ” Ekko thought, “ _damn. I can’t let him know._ ”

“It’s nothing,” he lied.

Curly cocked an eyebrow and gave his friend a suspicious look.

“ _He’s too old to buy that crap anymore,_ ” Ekko reminded himself, “ _be honest with him. You would want the same._ ”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he confessed.

“Do you want to talk about it,” Curly asked.

“Not really.”

Ekko smiled. It was not because the thought of a kid nearly half his age giving him advice was amusing, but rather the ready kindness of the kid. There was an innocence about him that made Ekko comfortable. He knew that he would never have to reverse time to take back what he had said. Not that Ekko would do that anyways. It was one thing to turn back time on a girl he just met to get his opening line just right, but another thing entirely to do that to a friend. Such a dishonest action was more despicable than lying.

“Ok, crystal,” Curly said, “but you always can if you need to.”

Ekko reached into his pocket and grabbed a few cogs.

“Here,” he said, “why don’t you go find Freckles and grab a shaved ice?”

Curly took them but still wore a concerned look.

“Yeah,” he said as he mustered a smile, “I can do that. Thanks, Ekko.”

Without further delay, Curly was off. When he was gone, Ekko took a deep breath and held it for several seconds.

“ _Absolutely none of me wants to do this,_ ” he thought, “ _but I need answers. I won’t be able to think straight until I know._ ”

He released the breath. With a running start, Ekko leapt and grabbed onto the bottom rung of a nearby fire escape. In moments he had scaled it to the top of the building where he could scan the jagged profile of Zaun.

“ _Where are you Ren?_ ”

A flash from the direction Ren was headed caught Ekko’s eye.

“ _There you are._ ”

Ekko moved from building to building with little more effort than if he were walking on the street. He had climbed these pipes and jumped these alleys dozens of times before, sometimes within a single second. In very little time, he had caught up to Ren as he was on the Entresol Level. As always, this level was filled with commotion and crowds. Ekko hid himself among the colorful throng of people and watched.

“ _Buying paper, lemon sours, and paint. You were always lousy at saving money. Nothing out of the ordinary though. See Ekko, you’re overreacting._ ”

Ren gave a quick check to his surroundings and secured his purse away from pickpockets before turning to a path towards the Sump Level.

“ _But just to be sure…_ ”

Ekko descended into the Sump Level. Here, being in the crowd made him nervous, so he returned to the rooftops, pipes, service ladders, and makeshift bridges that turned this level into a clustered jigsaw of metal. He followed Ren as closely as he dared, though he appeared to be going in no particular direction.

“ _Come on, we’ve been at this for an hour. No stops to drop off your art or pick up something else, so what’s up, Ren?_ ”

He kept following. Every few minutes Ren stopped and checked over his shoulder.

“ _Doubling back again? This goes beyond normal commonsense Sump caution. You don’t want to be followed. So what are you hiding?_ ”

At long last, Ren climbed up onto a large pipe, one that only went to one place.

“ _You’re going to the Yawn._ ”

The Yawn was one of Zaun’s widest gorges and home to its two (formerly three) zeppelin factories. The pipe Ren was walking along was the safest was to cross that gap, but not the only way. Ekko bit back a groan. It was one of these less safe options he would have to take it he wanted to follow unseen.

“ _Looks like it’s the bridge for me._ ”

Winds blew up and down the Yawn, providing the area with a gentle breeze and much needed relief from the Gray. The downside of this though was that the assorted fragrances of the city would be blown in from all of its levels.

“ _Ugh, chem runoff from below, sticky sweet from that candle factory above. One or the other please._ ”

Ekko climbed his way past dozen of bluebird charms swaying softly in the breeze until he reached the remains of an old lift. Years ago, a gang had cut the cables to the lift, sending the car careening to the bottom of the chasm it had previously ferried people across. Fearing retaliation if they tried to rebuild it, the owners of the lift fled back to the upper levels of Zaun, leaving what was left of their cables and car behind. Then the people who lived in this district moved in. They took what was abandoned and built a bridge across the Yawn from the scraps similar to how a rope bridge might be made. The planks were made from tarp, scraps of metal, chain-link fence, and whatever else the locals could find.

The whole structure rattled as Ekko put his first foot onto it. Unlike the pipes, which were tended to by the companies that owned them, this bridge was maintained by the civilians who used it, so its condition was always questionable at best.

“ _Nothing to worry about. There’s what, only one fatality on this thing a year? Those aren’t bad odds.”_

The chain-link plank bent under his weight but didn’t fall out. The next step onto a metal plate was more secure, as was the one after it.

“ _No problems. Now I’ve got to move. I can’t lose Ren._ ”

Ekko’s steps became more assured as his pace quickened. The bridge creaked and groaned, but everything held together, until Ekko came to the first tarp plank. His foot hit the side of the tarp at an odd angle and swung out from under him. Ekko collapsed as his foot fell through the bridge. He grabbed the cables to steady himself before more of him could slip between the planks.

“ _Whoops._ ”

Ekko reached behind himself and switched on the Z-Drive. Time splintered around him like twinkling bits of glass as he was pulled back up and away from the tarp plank.

Ekko’s steps became more assured as his pace quickened. The bridge creaked and groaned, but everything held together. As he approached the first tarp plank though, he slowed himself just enough to safely pass over it.

“ _Not this time. Going to need to watch out for those._ ”

His leg still throbbed from where he had fell on it, but otherwise, Ekko reached the other side of the Yawn without a scratch. Without leaving time to catch his breath, he descended to where the pipe Ren walked on arrived.

“ _Found you again. There’s not much on this side; copper foundry, that creep Viktor’s lair, a fancy bakery, that lady with the three legged cat, and a shimmer den. Oh, it’s the shimmer. You were clean for so long. Damn.”_

Ekko edged through the shadows behind Ren. He could feel that he was close to learning the truth and he didn’t want to let Ren out of his sight, but he had to pick his steps carefully. It was quieter on this side of the Yawn and there were fewer buildings.

“ _Once we get down lower, there will be more for me to hide behind. Then I spot you at the door to the den and everything will be alright.”_

But Ren did not move lower into the Sump. He moved upwards towards the abandoned factory. The feeling of dread again rippled through Ekko.

“ _Why are you going up there?_ ”

The image of the maker’s mark on Ren’s augmentation flashed through his mind.

“ _That gear. No._ ”

Ekko’s eyes darted desperately around for some way to keep following unnoticed. And there it was, an old fire escape from the factory. It was coated in rust from years of disrepair and several of the spikes that kept it attached to the chasm wall had fallen out, but Ekko didn’t care. Fear made him desperate. He let Ren out of sight for just this moment to climb up onto the fire escape. It groaned beneath his weight more than the bridge did.

“ _Shhhh…_ ”

He followed the staircase up. The whistling sound of machinery came from ahead. Ekko moved as fast as he dared. He rounded the corner that brought him in view of the factory and saw Ren about to step onto the lift. His eyes were so focused on Ren that he didn’t notice that the platform before him had lost most of its anchoring spikes. With his next step, the last spike gave way and they both crashed to the landing below.

Ren whipped his head around at the noise and starred dumbstruck as the dust cleared.

“Ekko,” Ren asked, “what are you doing here?”

Ekko picked himself up and looked at his friend. Ren’s eyes were a mix of concern, confusion, and accusation.

“I’m all right,” Ekko stammered, “I was just, umm.”

“You were what?”

“Umm, nothing.”

He panicked, and before he could think, Ekko found his fingers switching on the Z-Drive. Time rearranged itself back on the fire escape, but Ekko wasn’t paying attention to that.

“ _I turned back time. I couldn’t face him. No, I’ll do it right this time._ ”

He followed the staircase up. The whistling sound of machinery came from ahead. Ekko moved as fast as he dared. He rounded the corner that brought him in view of the factory and saw Ren about to step onto the lift. He didn’t move, but watched silently.

“ _Move. Go._ ”

But he didn’t, and he silently watched as his friend took the elevator up towards the scientist who embodied the corruption of Zaun.

Ekko bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and forced himself back with the Z-Drive.

He followed the staircase up. The whistling sound of machinery came from ahead. Ekko moved as fast as he dared. He rounded the corner that brought him in view of the factory and saw Ren about to step onto the lift. He didn’t move, but watched silently.

“ _You need to stop him._ ”

But he didn’t, and he silently watched as his friend took the elevator up towards the scientist who embodied the corruption of Zaun.

Again he went back.

He followed the staircase up. The whistling sound of machinery came from ahead. Ekko moved as fast as he dared. He rounded the corner that brought him in view of the factory and saw Ren about to step onto the lift. He didn’t move, but watched silently.

“ _Please, Ekko. Say something. Do something._ ”

But he didn’t, and he silently watched as his friend took the elevator up towards the scientist who embodied the corruption of Zaun.

Again.

He followed the staircase up. The whistling sound of machinery came from ahead. Ekko moved as fast as he dared. He rounded the corner that brought him in view of the factory and saw Ren about to step onto the lift. He didn’t move, but watched silently.

“ _I don’t believe this._ ”

But he did, and he silently watched as his friend took the elevator up towards the scientist who embodied the corruption of Zaun.

“ _I can’t change this._ ” 


	27. Chapter 27

Curious eyes snuck a peak whenever they could. It was not every day that the recluse Viktor made an appearance in the populated Entresol Level. Everywhere the scientist was greeted with whispers behind his back. He let them gossip. Their words meant little to him. He was here for one being and one being alone; Blitzcrank.

They had planned to meet at the Morning Mill Café. It was safe, not far from the Yawn, and most importantly, possessed a doorway wide enough to accommodate the golem’s size. Viktor stepped inside and was wrapped in the multi-colored light that filtered through the stained glass windows of the café. Even through his filters, Viktor could tell that the air here was clean. None of the patrons coughed, but instead breathed deeply the warm aromas of freshly brewed beverages.

Beneath the largest of the windows at the back of the café, Viktor found Blitzcrank. The golem was sitting as close to the counter as he could without putting himself in the way of the busy baristas so that he could listen to the various pipping whistles of the kettles. Viktor took a moment to admire his creation. The light, rich from the dyed windows, reflected brilliantly off of Blitzcrank’s golden body, making it look as though the golem was glistening with jewels. Blitzcrank turned his attention from the whistling kettles and waved Viktor over. The golem extended his arm across the table to pull out a chair for Viktor as he approached.

“It is good to see you again,” Blitzcrank said with all the warmth his metal voice could muster.

“As it is to see you,” Viktor responded as he took a seat.

“I was pleased when Moyna delivered your letter,” Blitzcrank continued, “I have felt a longing for your companionship. None of the other mechanics who have aided in my maintenance are as skilled as you.”

“If you ever require maintenance, you are always welcome at my workbench.”

“Your offer is noted and appreciated. I would have come before but I wanted to honor your desire for solitude and privacy.”

“Thank you, Blitzcrank. Know that in the future, my offer for you remains.”

“Affirmative.”

Blitzcrank waved over one of the baristas.

“Please bring the order I placed earlier,” the golem requested.

The barista nodded and went off to prepare the drink. Viktor gave Blitzcrank a questioning look. Even though his face was covered by him mask, Blitzcrank could tell when the scrutinizing gaze of his creator was upon him.

“I arrived an hour earlier than our agreed meeting time so that I could observe the behaviors of the patrons here,” Blitzcrank explained, “purchasing refreshments for one’s companion was the common behavior.”

Viktor gave a quick look around the café. It was filled mostly with couples. Viktor gave a short, dry chuckle.

“What is so humorous,” Blitzcrank asked.

“You are attempting to behave like a human,” Viktor responded.

A puff of steam arose from the golem.

“I could never be like them,” he insisted, “they are more squishy than I and require different resources to sustain existence. However, I have found that mimicking their behavior puts them at ease. This has proved advantageous in preforming my duties to keep them safe. Humans are more willing to listen to a friendly golem than a cold one.”

“One would hope that they would listen to anyone attempting to assist them.”

Blitzcrank mimicked a shrugging motion.

“Organics are strange, interesting creatures.”

At that point, the barista had brought over Blitzcrank’s order; a plate of anisette cookies and a cup of tea that smelled of peppermint and lemongrass.

“They are for you,” Blitzcrank stated proudly, “some of the people I aid insist on giving me money. I have little use for it. It is nice to use it on a colleague.”

“Thank you, Blitzcrank,” Viktor said, though he made no motion towards the offered food.

A silent minute passed.

“Do you not want them,” Blitzcrank asked, “I believed you enjoyed the taste of anise.”

“I do,” Viktor answered.

The scientist had no viable excuse to give Blitzcrank about why he didn’t want to eat. True, he could say that he didn’t like how people starred at his bare face, but he didn’t care what they thought of him. What actually annoyed him was how these people chose to waste their time gawking at him rather than do any more productive. And so, with great reluctance, he removed his mask and pushed the sounds of the whispering patrons from his mind. He repressed a final urge to threaten one especially dim looking gawker with eye injections, and took a bite from a cookie.

The light, floury cookie crumbled in his mouth. They were simple and sweet, just as they should be, with most of the flavor coming from the rich glaze on top. The anise extract gave the sugary coating a licorice taste, while the sprinkles in the glaze added a fun but, in Viktor’s opinion, unnecessary texture and color. Overall, Viktor enjoyed them. He took a sip of the accompanying tea before continuing to talk.

“I have seen your name appear in the newspapers recently,” he said, “you aided a crew in replacing an air pump, stopped a crashing elevator, and saved all the poros from a burning pet store.”

“The small creatures produce pleasing noises when pet.”

“I am pleased to see that you are capable of preforming your duties with such a high success rate.”

“I was made to aid Zaun. It is what I enjoy doing.”

Blitzcrank gave a quick look over the other patrons, remembering what he had observed them doing.

“I have been meaning to ask,” he said, mimicking something he had heard earlier, “what have you been doing recently. I have not read about you in the news.”

Viktor paid no mind to how stiff the casual conversation sounded coming from Blitzcrank. Speaking was never the golem’s strength and now the conversation was moving in the direction he wanted.

“I have been occupied with a project,” the scientist answered, “it has been to improve on my designs for a highly mobile leg augmentation. The prototype has proven to be stable, so I have begun testing it on the body.”

Blitzcrank’s lenses scanned Viktor’s legs.

“Your limbs appear to be the same as before,” he commented.

“Correct. My body is not the one it is being tested on. I have a willing subject aiding me.”

“I detect a small shift in your tone. Is this subject different from the others? Have the results exceeded your expectations?”

“He is. Instead of leaving after augmentation, as many others have, subject N-12 has consented to remain so that I may monitor his progress and make adjustments to the limb as needed. It has been beneficial to us both.”

“That sounds exciting for you both,” Blitzcrank said. After a pause he added, “what is the subject’s name so that I may better identify him in later conversations?”

“The subject is N-12.”

“I do not understand. I thought that N-12 was the designation of the augmentation.”

“It is, but it is also how I have been addressing him.”

“Does his anonymity need to be retained for protection?”

“No, the boy has nothing and there is no one he needs protecting from.”

“Do you not know his name?”

“I know his name. His name is Renatus.”

“But you do not address him by it. Why is that?”

“Our relationship must remain professional. He is a test subject, an extension of the augmentation, and must be nothing more.”

Bitzcrank was silent for a minute. He released a long puff of steam before speaking.

“You gave me a name.”

Now it was Viktor’s turn to be silent.

“I was a different man then,” he said silently.

“If you had created me now, would you have named me?”

Viktor took another sip of his tea as he gathered his thoughts.

“I believe I would.”

“Why?”

“You are more than a prototype.”

“Only the boy’s leg is a prototype. The rest is Renatus. Please forgive my many questions. I am curious by design.”

Viktor put down his finished drink.

“I know,” he admitted, “and that is why I wanted to meet with you today. I would appreciate it if you could meet with the boy. He admires you and I believe that you can assist him in his training. You are one of the few beings I trust enough to ask.”

“I would be delighted to assist. I will await meeting this Renatus with eagerness,” Blitzcrank replied without hesitation.

“May I expect you the day after tomorrow,” Viktor asked as he put his mask back on.

“You may.”


	28. Chapter 28

Blitzcrank’s lenses scanned the young human before him. His mouth was slightly agape, his hair dark, and his eyes shone like polished silver. The sensors on Blitzcrank’s vital signs monitor blipped inside his machine mind.

TARGET’S HEART RATE INCREASED. SCANNING. NO SIGNS OF DISTRESS.

“I can’t believe this,” the boy gasped, “this must be a dream. Wow! Blitzcrank. I’m a huge fan.”

“Greetings Subject N-12, Renatus,” Blitzcrank said.

“And you already know my name,” Ren mused in a giddy voice.

“I was permitted to review your files before meeting you.”

“I hope those notes said mostly good things.”

Blitzcrank searched his word bank for a suitable response.

“The notes about your progress were positive and the ones about your augmentation were more so. However, little was written about Viktor’s opinion on your personality.”

“Of course there wasn’t,” Ren chuckled, “but I wouldn’t believe that Viktor would invite you here just to meet my charming personality.”

“That is correct,” Viktor cut in, “I did not. He is here to help with your education. It will be beneficial for you to train with a new partner and later, I will instruct you on new maintenance and repair techniques. I would consider your instruction incomplete if you did not know how to repair a steam golem.”

Ren’s head whipped back around to Blitzcrank.

“You mean you’re letting me work on you as well? Now I know I’m dreaming.”

“I can assure you that you are not asleep,” Blitzcrank said, “my scans have not found any of the typical signs of sleep on your person.”

“Crystal.”

“Enough talk,” Viktor said, “N-12, I assume you have noticed all the debris I had brought into the gym. Blitzcrank wants to teach you about using your environment to your advantage.”

Ren glanced about the room. He had noticed the barrels, scrap, old boxes that had been strewn about when he had entered the room.

“I kinda figured that those had something to do with today’s lesson. I can’t imagine you cluttering up your place just for fun. I think I’ll breeze through this one. You don’t survive on the streets without knowing how to use them to your advantage.”

“I am aware,” Blitzcrank responded, “I have also been surviving on the streets and I have been doing it more recently than you have. You have been living here since your upgrade. You need to reprogram your thoughts to adjust to your new limb and its abilities. Observe.”

There was a high pitched whistle, and the clanking of gears kicked in. Blitzcrank’s outer shell trembled slightly from his machinery whirling inside him before a pale glow began to emanate from his joints. Static soon crackled over his body and within seconds, sparks of it began to arc off his body towards other scraps of metal. Blitzcrank continued to speak over the crackling.

“In a metal rich environment, this static is an effective deterrent for most enemies. The flashes are intimidating and if the hostile still approach, the arcs can leap onto their weapons. But there is more that I can do.”

A great rush a steam gushed from Blitzcrank’s right arm as his hand shot outwards and grabbed a metal drum. He held it for a moment and it too became electrically charged. No sooner than that, and he threw it, sending the sparking object crashing against the far wall.

“Please stand back,” Blitzcrank said.

Viktor stood and motioned for Ren to follow him. Once Blitzcrank calculated that both were safely out of the way, he discharged all the static from his body in a shower of glowing streamers.

“As you were able to observe,” Blitzcrank continued, “I was able to use this debris to my advantage. Even if I were not charged, I am able to still grab and throw objects or use my arm to rappel down the side of Zaun. In your records, N-12 Renatus, you were noted as already being capable of advanced mobility with your leg. Now I want to observe you attacking me from there.”

“Easily,” Ren boasted with a casual stretch.

The boy paced for a moment, gaging the distance between them. Once he was satisfied with an angle, he clenched his muscles and prepared a charge in his augmentation. He released it, launching with a leap towards Blitzcrank.

“Incorrect,” the golem stated.

The whistle of steam hissed from Blitzcrank as his arm shot out and grabbed Ren mid jump. Within a second, Ren was pulled before Blitzcrank. He hardly had time to grunt out in surprise before the golem’s other massive hand swung around and gently tapped him on the head.

“Bop.”

“What was that for?” Ren demanded.

“Perhaps you misunderstood the purpose of this lesson. I already stated that you were capable of moving about with your augmentation. I do not need a demonstration of this. I wanted you to attack me using the debris. Viktor, a line would be appreciated.”

Viktor nodded and commanded his third arm to spring to life. With its angry red laser, it singed a line down the center of the training area.

“Now,” Blitzcrank continued, “you will attack me again but without crossing this line. Are we at an understanding now?”

“I understand,” Ren said, rubbing his sure to be bruised arms, “crystal.”

Ren stumbled back over to his side of the line and reassessed the situation. He couldn’t cross the line, nor could his augmentation spit flames far enough to Blitzcrank either. That left just one option. He went over to one of the barrels and aligned himself with it. He had never particularly enjoyed the times he had been twisted into playing soccer with the younger kids, but now he was happy to know that if need be, he could be a decent striker. His augmentation hummed as it began to charge and then, _BAM_ , with a swift kick it sent the barrel tumbling. The projectile spun through the air before crashing not as close to Blitzcrank as Ren was hoping, but the golem seemed pleased anyways.

“I knew I was correct in assuming you were clever,” Blitzcrank said, steam piping from him, “I know Viktor will have you practice until perfection later, but my time is limited. Find another way.”

Ren walked over to an old crate.

“Does launching this at you count as another,” he asked.

“It would,” Blitzcrank answered, “since you have not attempted to attack me with it yet.”

“I don’t like how you said attempt,” Ren mumbled as he prepared another kick.

As he immediately learned, attempt was an accurate word to describe what happened. The crate smashed into pieces, some of them smoking. Ren stomped down on one that had begun to burn when an idea crossed his mind.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said, “but my throwing isn’t nearly as good as my kicking.”

He picked up the larger splinter he could find and held it against the bottom of his foot. A minimal burst of heat from his augmentation, and the wood began to burn. Ren held it for a moment to make sure that the wood was alight before throwing it across the line. Again it landed further from Blitzcrank than he wanted and again, Blitzcrank didn’t seem bothered.

“One more,” Blitzcrank ordered.

“One more, one more. I think I can do that and it won’t be just kicking another object at you,” Ren boasted.

He looked around his side of the line. There were plenty of objects to kick and more things to ignite, but he wanted to do something impressive Blitzcrank. At last his sight came to rest on a length of chain. He stomped down on it with his augmented leg and began to charge it. Heat began glow from under his foot, but he held the charge for as long as he knew he would be able to maintain his balance afterward. He released it. The chain skirted across the floor like a bright red snake. Ren looked pleased at the heated metal, but made no motion to pick it up.

“Um,” he sighed, “I guess I didn’t really plan this though. It went much better in my head. You see, only part of it was supposed to heat up so that I could still pick it up and have a wicked fire chain. I’m willing to try again but, you know, I need this to cool down first.”

“There is no need,” Blitzcrank said, “I am satisfied.”

“Are you,” Viktor asked, “or are you more eager to receive your maintenance?”

“I think at a more complex level than other golems. I am able to experience two feelings at once.”

“If that is how you wish to spend your time, I will not argue with you.”

Blitzcrank followed Viktor over to where he set up his tools and beckoned for Ren to follow them. Laid across the table were Viktor’s best tools, a sight Ren never thought he would see outside the scientist’s personal lab. A steady stream of steam was released from Blitzcrank as he allowed his parts to slow or stop. Viktor opened Blitzcrank’s chest with tender care. Inside was a mechanized wonder.

Gears, springs, pipes, and wires were all woven wonderfully around each other. Though everything was placed with a method purpose in mind, the shines and shapes of Blitzcrank’s parts were a work of art. His boiler was front and center and scorched black from constant heating. From it sprouted pipes that all went to different parts of his body.

“It’s like his heart,” Ren remarked.

“No,” Viktor corrected, “this is his heart.” He pointed to iron clad sphere directly above the boiler. “His heart is golden.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing I have ever heard you say about anything.”

“He is not being kind,” Blitzcrank corrected, “my heart is literally made of gold.”

Viktor opened up the iron case, revealing a golden core wrapped in wire. It glowed with a warm light, and Ren could almost swear that he heard a beat from within.

“This is what provides the energy to boil the water,” Viktor explained, “all other steam golems use a chemical reaction to create heat and those chemicals must be refilled regularly. Blitzcrank alone has this golden heart. It never needs to be recharged.”

“That sounds impossible,” Ren blurt out, “I know you’re a genius but machines need fuel and even the best hextech devices need routine care to for them to keep their spark.”

Ren felt the piecing gaze of Viktor strike out from under his mask.

“It’s not hextech, is it?”

“Maybe I will answer you some day,” was Viktor’s only answer before he sealed the heart again, “today, you will learn how to provide basic care.”

Viktor went on to explain the precise purpose of each tool, where each pipe was connected, and what the correct volume of chemicals for each tank should be. He even allowed Ren to refill the water tank, albeit with strict guidance, because he believed that it was the most basic of tasks anyone working with steam golems should be able to accomplish. There was one complication to their task, and it came in the form of little white clumps of fur.

“You allowed the poros inside of you,” Viktor chastised, “your auxiliary storage compartment is intended for small objects, not living creatures. The incident with the poros also occurred over a week ago. You have been neglecting your hygiene. I am disappointed.”

“I apologize, but I was unable to resist. They make delightful noises and are not bothered by the fact that I am a golem. I was reluctant to part with them.”

Viktor had only let out a low sigh as he began to pluck the tiny tufts of fur out of Blitzcrank with his longest pair of scissors. After that task was completed, and Ren proclaimed that they had enough fur to recreate a miniature poro, Viktor closed Blitzcrank back up. His boiler began to rumble and within seconds, steam once again began to course through him. Blitzcrank gave his arms a satisfactory stretch.

“Thank you,” he said, “my systems are now operating at 90-100% efficiency. As you humans would say, I feel amazing.”

“You do not need to mimic human expression for me, Blitzcrank,” Viktor comment.

“I think nice though,” Ren added, “it’s what makes you stand out as a golem more than your strange gold heart thing.”

“Affirmative,” Blitzcrank said, “I acknowledge and appreciate both comments.”

The three walked to the entrance of the old factory. A cool gust of evening air brushed past them as they opened the door. Blitzcrank stepped outside and let out a long sigh of steam before turning back to the others.

“Today has been stimulating, and I thank you for it,” he said.

“If you are ever in need of repairs, do not hesitate to make an appointment,” Viktor replied.

“Or,” Ren added, “if you ever want to train or hang out. I could even draw a picture of you. Did the Doc’s notes mention that talent of mine?”

Blitzcrank paused for a moment. There was one illustration in Ren’s file, but after he had seen it, Viktor gave him explicit orders to never speak of it.

“The notes mentioned that you have been learning to illustrate schematics,” was the safer response Blitzcrank gave, “if you desire, we can illustrate the mechanisms in my arms. They are fascinating.”

“That would be wicked.”

Blitzcrank waved his farewells and returned to patrolling the sleepless city. When the golem disappeared from sight, Viktor turned his gaze to Ren and the giddy grin on his face.

“Your expression is making you look foolish,” he commented.

“I can’t help it. The single best golem in the world is my friend now, of course I feel like I’m on top of the world.”

* * * * * 

Elsewhere in the city, the same cool air that passed through Viktor’s lab blew over the tense hands of a young man as he prepared his Z-Drive for what he had to do.


	29. Chapter 29

The song of the black-back rock swift echoed down the gorge. Ren gave a contented sigh.

“I do not understand people’s obsession with bird calls,” Viktor said as he came to stand beside Ren, “the animals are only calling for procreation. There is nothing to romanticize; no romance, only biological impulses.”

“Look, Doc,” Ren said, “you already ruined fireflies for me last week. Please, don’t ruin birds.”

“Explaining why something functions the way it does does not ‘ruin’ the subject. Firefly behavior has not changed, only your perception of it has.”

“Well, my changed perception on fireflies and how the females will use their lights to attract and eat the males has ruined them for me.”

Viktor shook his head, saying no more and headed for the lift. Ren followed with a skip in his step. As the lift began its descent, he leaned over the railing and took a long, deep breath as they passed a rising smog cloud from a factory beginning its day.

“I love that smell,” Ren mused.

“If you inhale an unnecessary amount you will increase your risk of developing lung blight,” Viktor chided.

“Living in Zaun increases your risk of lung blight.”

“It is a compounding risk.”

“Besides,” Ren continued after giving a brief shrug, “that stench of burning fuel smells like productivity. I bet no other city in Valoran could boast that they reek of productivity.”

“No other city in Valoran could even compete with Zaun in terms of productivity.”

“Ah, so we agree on something.”

“We have many shared views. There is no reason to make a production of it every time you discover a new similarity.”

“I know, Doc, it just makes me giddy. It makes you seem human.”

Ren could feel Viktor’s glare from under the mask and was quick to apologize.

“I know, the ‘H-word.’ Forbidden. Sorry. I’ll be quiet until we reach the bottom.”

And he was quiet right up until the second the lift reached its destination, and then his mouth was running again.

“This is exciting, our first outing together. Well, you know, half an outing and only kinda together, since I’ll be doing my thing and you will be with your girlfriend.”

“She is a business partner,” Viktor responded dryly, “and you may do with your time what you will, so long as it is not excessively foolish and you return here on time.”

“We both know that you and I have different ideas about what is foolish, but I think I can handle myself well enough. I’ve survived Zaun so far.”

“You were on death’s doorstep when I found you.”

“That was a one-time fluke. Besides, thanks to this augmentation, I can clear any long jump, no problem, but yeah, I’ll be careful.”

“I expect you to be.”

“Crystal. See you later Doc.”

Viktor watched as Ren descended towards the pipes and catwalks of Zaun. If it weren’t for the precautions he took earlier, Viktor imagined that he would be feeling anxious to see his investment turn out of sight. But Viktor was a man who enjoyed his peace of mind and was willing to take steps to ensure that he could keep it. He waited a minute after Ren passed from sight before taking out a small device from his pocket. It was a small monitor.

Unbeknownst to Ren, while Viktor was working on the boy’s augmentation the previous night, he installed a tracking chip into it. With the push of a button, the monitor turned on and a dot blipped in the direction that Ren had headed. Viktor gave a small nod of approval. It was not that he distrusted Ren’s promise to return, the boy had after all, snuck out before and had returned, but rather that he loathed the idea of some unforeseen trouble endangering his work.

“ _Subject takes too many risks,_ ” he thought to himself as he placed the monitor back in his pocket, “ _and I have invested too much in this project._ ”

Comfortable in the knowledge that the tracking device was functional, Viktor set off to meet Moyna. Since their last encounter with the thugs, the already skittish woman had grown yet more cautious. She insisted that they shouldn’t meet at her home until she was sure that things had calmed down. That was over a month ago and Viktor knew it would be well over another month before she was satisfied the security of her sanctuary. Despite the inconvenience, her ability to procure whatever was needed was too valuable a resource to ignore. And so he tolerated the journey to her new meeting location; an abandoned warehouse in the upper layers of the Sump Level. 

Unlike the people of the Entresol Level, Sump Level dwellers didn’t care that Viktor walked among them. He could have been the bestial Howler prowling by and they likely would not have noticed. The people here were too tired to care. They shuffled about with red, sleepy eyes, dirty uniforms, and smudges of the Gray clinging to them. Most were either heading to or from their shifts at the nearby factories. None of the bits of conversation he heard were directed towards him.

One father voiced his excitement over his daughter’s acceptance into medical school. Another man whispered to his companions about a new Shimmer den that had opened. A woman berated her son for not brining in the laundry inside in time and now all the clothes were covered in soot again. A small group of children chattered excitedly as they poked at a dead sump rat. The angry grumbling of people complaining about work dominated conversations. And throughout it all was the persistent sound of coughing.

Viktor had to take a step back to avoid stepping in a freshly coughed up ball of grey phlegm. He cast a sideways glance towards the man who spat it out. He was pale and his chest shook as he coughed out a second ball. He friends gave him a hard pat on the back and handed him as mask connected to a pipe that delivered fresh air down to the district. Although Viktor was disgusted by the man’s mannerisms, he couldn’t suppress the thought that he could improve his life, but he knew that it was highly unlikely that this man would willingly consent to having his lungs replaced with machinery.

He had a similar thought for the young woman he saw struggling with her damaged augmentation that had to replace a severed arm. And another for a child missing a finger. And for the man who walked with a severe limp. There wasn’t one person Viktor saw that he didn’t think he could improve with his work if only they would let him.

He had to stop imagining his plans for when he at last came to the warehouse. A chemical fire from a storage tank a decade ago had left the building flooded with hazardous chemicals and although those toxic substances had mostly been cleaned away, the noisome stench remained and likely would for another decade.

The doors groaned as they opened into the empty building. Anything of value in this place had been liquidated years before, leaving the rest to the rust. Viktor’s footsteps echoed through the empty rooms as he approached the office at the far side of the building. At the door, the murmur of voices caught Viktor’s ear. He peered around the corner with his third arm raised as a precaution. Moyna was there, crouched over so that she could speak at eye level with a child. She handed him a small bottle with a dropper top. 

“And do you know what to do with this if he ever does that to your mother again,” she asked.

“A few drops in his tea. Spread it out over several days.”

Even though her mouth was obscured by a mask, Viktor could tell that Moyna was smiling at the child’s response by how the tops of her cheeks wrinkled.

“That’s a smart boy. Your mother is lucky to have someone like you,” she gave him a pat on the head, “now go on and be safe.”

The boy nodded and ran out, nearly stumbling over Viktor as he sped by. Moyna stood and dusted off her knees as Viktor approached her.

“You accuse me of recklessness,” he said, “but you are the one handing out poisons to children.”

“Oh, I’d never give a kid anything lethal,” Moyna protested, “but something to blind his mother’s sleazy overseer, absolutely. Just giving him the tools needed to protect himself and his. I’m not going to discriminate because he’s a kid.”

“And what did he have to trade with you?”

“Knowledge. Kids know more than most give them credit for, such as the combination of a safe in an office they have to clean.”

“I find it difficult to believe you would put yourself in such a degree of danger for money.”

“Money, oh no. There are easier ways for me to get money. Breaking into an office to steal a formula is another thing entirely though. But enough about my future heists, you’re here for business now.”

She reached down into her bag and rummaged around before pulling out a bottle with a small pouch tied to it. The liquid swished about at the slightest movement and had a faint grey tint.

“Here it is,” she said with pride, “the best lubricant I can liberate from the Barons. Mix the powder in. You’ve used this before, I don’t need to explain.”

She handed him the bottle and set to reorganizing her pack. With a chuckle, she paused and pulled a second bottle from the bag.

“I don’t suppose I could interest you in this,” she asked, “I found it while paying a quick visit to a nobleman’s estate the other night.”

Viktor took the bottle and read the label with disbelief.

“ **Finest Bottled Air: Shurima Spice Market** ”

“This is pathetic,” Viktor stated.

“I knew you would hate it,” Moyna said as she took the bottle back, “there was also Noxian Night Garden and Freljord Mountains as flavors. I’m willing to bet that all of it is just bottled in some Piltover factory where they just rub pine needles or rose petals around the rim before slapping a label on them. Still, someone will trade for this,” she closed her bag, “so, what do you have for me this time?”

Viktor produced a small case.

“One of my new prototypes based off of N-12’s augmentation. It is designed to increase the wearer’s mobility while climbing,” he opened the case and removed a device that looked like a metal cage in the shape of a boot, “it has retractable crampons for grip, joints along its length for flexibility, and a small combustion chamber on the heel.”

“Explosions,” she asked nervously, “on my feet?”

“Controlled explosions, Moyna. If you mix chemicals correctly you will not need to fear losing your limbs,” he handed her the pair of devices, “but in the unlikely event that there is a catastrophic error, I will be able to replace your damaged limbs at no charge.”

“That’s comforting to know at least,” Moyna said as she strapped the metal cages around her feet, “though I assume that any new augmentation you give for free would be experimental.”

“I have never augmented a Vastayan before. Anything I would attach to you would be an experiment worth monitoring.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that though. Speaking of which, how is N-12? He must be successful to some degree for you to base other designs off of his augmentation.”

“Subject N-12 has proven to be more mentally stimulating than I originally anticipated.”

“That’s a roundabout way of saying that you actually like the kid.”

With a final click, the climbing boots were secured.

“I would say that ‘like’ is not an appropriate word,” Viktor commented as he watched Moyna stretch and test the flexibility of the boots, “but he is brighter than he looks and it makes his company palatable when he isn’t running his mouth.”

He could see her smiling under her mask again.

“I’m glad for you, Viktor,” she said.

His reply came only as a noncommittal grunt. He went to grab the instructions he had written for the boots but froze. There was a frantic beeping coming from his pocket. His hand flew to his pocket and ripped the tracking device from it. Moyna was at his side in an instant, peering down at the screen with him. The sense of dread between them was palpable as they read the letters across the top of the screen.

“SUBJECT N-12 DAMAGED” 


	30. Chapter 30

“Crystal. See you later Doc.”

Ren gave Viktor a brief wave before jumping down onto a service catwalk. The metal on metal clang of his augmentation connecting with the suspended structure sent vibrations down its length. He loved it. The noise made him feel powerful, like it was like a declaration; “bring it on, Zaun, I’m augmented and ready for you.’

Ren turned and waved to Viktor one final time before rounding the corner and moving out of sight of his mentor. A warm feeling spread through him. It was nice, he thought, that Viktor trusted him enough to go out on his own. Viktor’s opinion hadn’t stopped him before, but this was a welcome change of pace from sneaking out.

“ _Less a lab rat and more a partner_ ,” Ren thought, before quickly shaking the notion from his head, “ _well, partner may be too strong a word. Student, maybe? At least a person he tolerates._ ”

He let the quest for the appropriate word buzz around his brain as he descended towards his favorite market below the shattered cultivair. He had heard that Freckles had managed to convince some of the workers from the candle factory to give her some extra wax so that she and Curly could begin their quest to become candle makers. Ren made it the day’s mission to buy one of their candles, even though it was likely that the candle would neither smell particularly nice nor burn well.

“ _Well,_ ” he thought, “ _we all need to start somewhere. I just hope the extra wax didn’t come from one of the factories ‘experimental fragrances’ days. Ugh, the world doesn’t need any turkey dinner candles._ ”

The glinting green glass soon came into view and Ren descended into the small, hidden market. It was a quieter day than the last time he had visited, but there was still enough going on to keep his eyes entertained. He took his time going over the various goods on display and was almost tempted to buy some records until he realized that he didn’t know if Viktor owned a sonophone. Ren put the record back down on the stall and gave a quick shrug. It just meant that he would have to ask Viktor if he had one.

“ _Even if Doc doesn’t have one, we could probably build one_ ,” he reasoned to himself.

The thought of building his own sonophone immediately eased any feeling of disappointment, and he continued on with an improved mood. So elevated he felt that Ren even dared to make eye contact with the crooked nosed goon who was looming behind his stall of ill-gotten augmentations. The goon shot Ren back an icy look, to which Ren returned a warm smile. This lasted approximately three seconds before Ren remembered that value of what was strapped to his stump and he hastily turned his face away and hurried off. Ren heard the goon huff and mutter something foul under his breath but tried not to pay it too much mind. He couldn’t look rattled even the slightest before the kids.

At last he found them at the back of the market in the concealed corner that he usually used to sell his drawings. Lumpy and crooked, their first attempts at candles were lined up before them. Curly was beaming proudly at their creations while Freckles gently fanned a piece of paper over the one lit candle in an attempt to waft its fragrance through the market. Ren waved at them as he approached, but then something strange happened.

Curly saw him and a look of nervousness descended on his face. He starred back at Ren with this confused look before finally offering a sheepish wave. Freckles saw this and followed Curly’s gaze back to Ren. Her reaction was far different. In an instant she scooped up her candles into her pack, completely abandoning the lit one, and slung them over her shoulders. She grabbed Curly’s hand and pulled it down before tugging him away. Curly gave Ren one last sad look before turning to go with Freckles. Then they bolted off. Ren stood there dumbfounded, his mind taking several seconds to process what had happened before he gained the sense of mind to take off after them.

Ren’s strides were longer, but the kid’s small size made it easier for them to weave through the crowd and gain distance over their pursuer. Ren growled under his breath. He knew he was losing them. His eyes darted around the market, looking for anything that might help him. He found it in the shape of a fire escape attached to a neighboring building.

“Need some space,” he shouted as he began to charge his leg.

A mixtures of gasps and irritated cursed rose from the crowd as Ren propelled himself up and over them to grab the lowest rung of the escape. He pulled himself up to the level and scanned the crowd until he spotted them ducking out the back of the market. Without giving himself time for a second thought, Ren leapt off after them.

He scrambled up the fire escape to the top of the building. And, giving himself a running start, he leapt from rooftop to rooftop to rooftop. He ignored the growing murmur from the people below. His attention was only focused on Curly and Freckles.

“Wait! Stop,” Ren shouted out to them.

But his words appeared to be ignored. Freckles turned suddenly and ran into an underpass built below the buildings Ren was on. Curly went stumbling after her, but not before casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Ren cursed under his breath as began to charge his augmentation. He was going to have to attempt a technique he was still working on. Without releasing pressure on it, he stepped off the side of the building. He released the blast shortly before he would have become a splat on the ground, and instead the force of the exhaust slowed his fall and allowed him to touch down, leaving only a sizeable scorch mark left on the pavement instead of spattered Renatus.

Ren followed them into the underpass just in time to see them disappear into a vent too small for him to crawl through.

“Curly? Freckles,” he called down into it, “what’s wrong?”

The only response he received was the scuffing noise of them crawling through the vents. Ren needed more than that, he needed an answer. Luckily for him, he knew this vent system from when he used it as a child. He thought for a moment, remembering which paths were inaccessible on cleaning days, fan schedules, and where all the exits for this vent were.

“ _They’re going to Splinter’s Gorge_ ,” he decided, “ _it’s the safest route today.”_

Ren took only a minute to catch his breath before beginning his ascent towards Splinter’s Gorge. The gorge was one of the more narrow ones in Zaun, but that by no means meant it was a forgettable landmark. From the depths of the Sump rose the Splinter, the largest stalagmite in Zaun. It loomed over all the other buildings around the gorge, with the very tip of the structure mere inches shy of Piltover. Several smaller stalagmites grew from Splinter’s base, so that in places it looked more like a gnarled tree than stone. 

Several walkways crisscrossed the gorge, giving travelers plenty of angles from which to admire Splinter’s majesty. These walkways were also a popular place for the children of Zaun to test their skills, daring each other to jump from level to level. Ren waited on the middle of five levels, confident that he could quickly jump to whichever level Curly and Freckles decided to cross on. He heard them before he saw them.

On the far side of the gorge, Curly was doubled over with a heaving cough, his blight-weakened lungs exhausted from running. Freckles was rubbing his back, whispering something in his ear, and looking around frantically. Ren bolted over to them when saw this.

“Curly, what’s wrong? Are you--” Ren called out.

Freckles cut him off when she moved herself between them.

“You stay back,” she shouted, “his lungs are fine enough. You don’t need to go and replace them.”

Ren froze in his tracks.

“Replace them? Freckles, what?” he asked, “your words are in the Gray. Why would I want to replace Curly’s lungs?”

“Because Ekko told us that you’re working for him now and that’s what he does. We won’t let Curly become golem.”

“You’ve lost me completely. I work for who now?”

“Viktor.”

All three of them turned their heads at the sound of Ekko’s voice. Ekko was standing on one up the upper walkways around the Splinter. In one, clean motion, he jumped down and placed himself between Ren and the kids. He always made it look so effortless.

“Whew, Ekko,” Ren said, “talk some sense into them. I’m not dangerous at all.”

“But you work for Viktor now,” Ekko retorted in a grim tone, “don’t you? You’re wearing his tech.”

“What? No. I don’t work him.”

A wave of relief washed over Ekko’s face.

“I don’t think I’ve been so happy to be wrong before,” Ekko said with a sigh, “now come on, let’s get that junk off your leg.”

Ren took a step back as his friend approach.

“Uh, no,” he objected, “look, I know you hate augmentations and all that, but I kinda need this to walk.”

“Come on,” Ekko responded, “I know I’m stubborn, but I’m not stupid. I understand and make exceptions for totally necessary augmentations. We’ll get you a new leg, a better one, one not made by that creep.”

“There aren’t any better ones than this.”

“Okay, so we’ll get you one just as good then, just as long as we can get rid of that one.”

“Ekko, I don’t want to get rid of this one.”

“Why? I thought you said you weren’t working for him.”

“Working for him, no, but he’s, well, he’s my friend Ekko. I’m not going to throw this away just because you don’t like it.”

“Friend? Ren, he’s probably just using you as a lab rat.”

“Maybe at first. I kinda knew it, but I don’t think it’s like that anymore. He cares about me. He’s been teaching me how to maintain my leg, read blueprints, and even a little about hex-tech. If I’m anything to him, it sure isn’t a lab rat anymore, it’s an apprentice.”

“Apprentice? You mean you want to learn to learn how to make monsters?”

“Monsters, no. Blitzcrank isn’t a monster. Blitzcrank was made to help people. I don’t think he wants to make monsters.”

“You think or you know?”

“I think,” Ren’s tone was growing hot, “but I know that you’re assuming a lot for someone who hasn’t spent any time with this man.”

Ekko was silent for a moment. He took a deep breath before turning to look back to the kids.

“Get out of here,” he told them, “I don’t want you to see this.”

Freckles hoisted Curly to his feet and pulled him away. Ren started towards them again but Ekko held out his hand, now gripping his clock hand club.

“Ekko, what is wrong with you,” Ren demanded.

“I’m very sad, Ren,” Ekko replied, “but I’m going to help you. He’s got you brainwashed. I need to get you away from him and I’m going to start by getting that thing off of you.”

A concoction of rage and sorrow welled within Ren. He leapt backwards. He took a fighting stance as every muscle in his body tensed. The machinery in his augmentation began to hum with energy.

“You can try,” he spat.

Solemnly, Ekko reached and turned on his Z-Drive.


	31. Chapter 31

“Last chance, Ekko,” Ren said, “you know we would rather talk this out.”

“You know I’ve never been good with words,” Ekko replied.

They each began to pace, waiting for the other to make the first move. Ren was nervous. He knew that many of Ekko’s fights appeared to end in a single strike, but Ren knew the truth. Ekko would have to try and retry the opening strikes of battles many times before it looked so effortless. For his fate to not be the same, he would need Ekko to make the first move. Out of the corner of his eye, Ren saw his solution.

Part of the railing was severely damaged from a chemical spill. Several of the poles supporting a section of the railing had been eaten away while others were barely hanging on. Ren kicked one of these poles out from under the railing and held it before him. The machinery in his augmentation whirled to life as Ren threw the pole with all his strength at Ekko. No sooner had his improvised projectile left his hand then he leapt diagonally away from Ekko.

“Then I’ll just go talk the others,” Ren said, “maybe they will still have sense in their heads.”

Ekko knocked the pole to the side with ease. He swore under his breath and took off after Ren.

“You stay away from them,” Ekko shouted.

It was with conflicting emotions that Ren smiled when he felt Ekko’s fist grip his shoulder. On one hand, he took the bait and closed the distance himself, on the other hand Ren knew that what was about to follow would be painful and ugly.

Ren stopped mid step and spun around to meet Ekko head on. He grabbed Ekko’s hand on his shirt and twisted his arm so that his elbow was facing downwards. Ren pulled back his other arm, winding up to smash his forearm into Ekko’s elbow to break it. Ekko was faster though. He released Ren and delivered a side kick with his lead leg to push him back. Ren coughed, gripping his side, but refused to let this daze him. He reassumed a fighting stance and ducked back inwards towards Ekko, leading with a swift uppercut.

Ren kept his attacks coming at a rapid pace. Jab, hook, cross, uppercut. Anything so long as he stayed too close for Ekko to be able to comfortably swing his club. Despite this, Ren was having trouble with any of his blows making a solid connection, only managing to land a glancing blow on Ekko’s shoulder in his opening salvo. Ekko, despite the lack of use of his club, still had a free hand with which he blocked and deflected Ren’s attacks. At last though, Ren landed a strike.

A punch snuck through Ekko’s guard and struck him in the stomach. Ekko gasped, hunching forward. Ren saw this as an opening and swung to bring his knee to Ekko’s vulnerable face. Ekko saw this coming though and leaned on his club as a cane to force himself upright in time to meet this attack. He tried to counter with his own knee, gambling with the knowledge that he had always been able to out speed Ren. He lost this gamble.

Their knees collided with an audible crack. Ekko was sent tumbling back as pain exploded in his leg. He forced himself to sit upwards despite the wicked pain in his knee. Several paces from him, he saw Ren, still standing unmoved. He looked frozen, with his augmented leg still raised from his attack and his face bearing an expression of shock. Ekko took advantage of Ren’s momentary stupor and pulled with cord on his Z-Drive. The world went blurry.

Ren kept his attacks coming at a rapid pace. Jab, hook, cross, uppercut. Anything so long as he stayed in too close for Ekko to be able to comfortably swing his club. Despite this, Ren was having trouble with any of his blows making a solid connection, only managing to land a glancing blow on Ekko’s should in his opening salvo. Ekko, despite the lack of use of his club, still had a free hand with which he blocked and deflected Ren’s attacks. At last though, Ren though he saw an opening.

Ren aimed a punch for Ekko’s stomach, but before his strike could connect, Ekko turned suddenly. The only thing Ren’s punch connected with was the flat of Ekko’s club. He gasped as his fingers throbbed from striking metal. No sooner than he registered this, he felt Ekko’s elbow strike him firmly in the chest. Ekko then took a step back to give himself the space he needed to appropriately utilize his weapon, but his knee still ached despite the rewind and it buckled beneath him. Ren noticed this. A feeling of anger welled inside him, pushing any thought of pain from his mind.

“You rewinded,” he hissed. 

“And you knew that was something I could do before we started this,” Ekko shot back as he righted himself.

“I knew but hoped but hoped you wouldn’t. I was hoping that this would be a fair fight.”

“There are no fair fights in Zaun, we both know this.”

“Then I guess I don’t need to pull my punches anymore.”

“Same goes for me. Don’t worry too much though. I’ll rewind if I do anything too serious to you.”

“Hmm.”

Ren rubbed his knuckles. They ached, but they weren’t broken. He wanted to keep it that way and he knew that to do that, he would need that pole back. Unfortunately, it was lying on the ground behind Ekko. Ren took in a deep breath of air to clear his mind. Then, he was in motion.

Ren used what little space he had to gain a running start, closing the distance between them in seconds. Ekko readied his club. Ren charged his leg. At the last moment, he jumped upwards to the side. Ren could feel the rush of air the club made as it missed his arm by inches. He stretched out his augmented leg waiting to hear the ‘tink’ of metal on metal. He heard it as his leg touched the railing and so he released energy building in his augmentation.

The railing gave out a groan as it was bent under the force. Ren went sailing over Ekko’s head and landed heavily, inches from the pole. Ren dove for the improvised weapon, snatching it up and turning to block Ekko just in time. The pole sent vibrations down Ren’s arms as it was struck with the flat of Ekko’s club. Ekko pulled his arm back and with a twist of his wrist, turned his weapon to strike with the sharpened edge of the old clock hand. Ren also adjusted his grip, bringing his two hands closer together and swung the pole like a sword.

Again their weapons collided with a clang, but this time it was not a draw. Ren looked on in horror as Ekko’s weapon cut through the pole, shortening his weapon by several inches. Ekko pushed his advantage, swinging inward as he chambered his right knee. Again, Ren’s weapon was reduced in size. Ren was determined to strike first this time. He pulled back to swing, but Ekko struck with his kick first, nailing him in the thigh.

Pain tore through Ren’s body, as the force of Ekko’s kick put unwanted stress on the muscles that connected directly to the augmentation and threw him off balance. This was the opening Ekko had been hoping for. With a two-handed swing, he brought the bladed edge of his club into the side of Ren’s augmentation below the knee. Sparks flew as the metal was cut open, but unlike the pole, Viktor’s handiwork was made of a stronger metal, and Ekko’s weapon became stuck in the machinery. A mixture of blood and chemicals poured from the opening as Ekko struggled to free his club. Ren swore at the top of his lungs. He held the pole in a white knuckled grip and slammed it down on Ekko’s collarbone. There was an audible snap. Ekko dropped to the ground, his head reeling. Desperately, he reached back and pulled the cord.

Again, Ren’s weapon was reduced in size. Ren was determined to strike first this time. He pulled back to swing, but Ekko struck with his kick first, nailing him in the thigh. Pain tore through Ren’s body, as the force of Ekko’s kick put unwanted stress on the muscles that connected directly to the augmentation and threw him off balance. Ekko knew this opening was coming. He adjusted his attack, this time striking at a thinner spot. His weapon cut into the side of the augmentation, closer to the ankle. The limb wasn’t severed as he had hoped, but at least his club wasn’t stuck.

Ren looked mortified. Lubricants leaked over the exposed wires. Images of mangled flesh and torn muscles flashed through his mind. Something inside him snapped. All thoughts of pain were pushed from his mind as he began to swing the pipe with wild abandon. Ekko jumped back as the pole moved through where his face was moments before. Ren howled as he swung again. Ekko blocked it with the sharpened edge of his weapon, cutting Ren’s in half. This did nothing to stop Ren though. He whipped half of the pole at Ekko, forcing him to hastily jump aside. He was ready for Ekko before he had a chance to regain his footing. After a quick charge, Ren brought a rocket powered roundhouse kick slamming into Ekko’s arm. There was a snapping sound, and then, with the pull of a cord, it was all undone.

Ren began to swing the pipe with wild abandon. Ekko jumped back as the pole moved through where his face was moments before. Ren howled as he swung again. Ekko blocked it with the sharpened edge of his weapon, cutting Ren’s in half. This did nothing to stop Ren though. He whipped half of the pole at Ekko, who this time jumped backwards. Instead of his arm, Ren’s kick slammed into the guard rail, bending it below the force and widening the gash in the augmentation. Ren swore. Ekko steeled his focus as he dodged the other half of the pole. But rather than follow through with another kick, Ren just ran at Ekko with arms outstretched.

Ekko stared dumbfounded for a moment, but the bloodlust in Ren’s eyes quickly snapped him out of it. He swung at the augmentation, striking it in the side, much to his amazement. Ren acted as though he didn’t feel the second hole being ripped into his limb, grabbing onto Ekko on his shoulders and shoving him backwards. Ren continued to drive on, overpowering Ekko with the help of combustion backed steps. His augmentation groaned in duress as sparks began to fly from his wounds as well. Ekko tried to strike back by throwing a punch into Ren’s arm, but to no effect.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ren growled through grit teeth, “as long as I hurt you badly enough, you’ll rewind and undo this to me as well.”

With a final shove, Ren forced Ekko up against the railing. He followed up with an augmented knee to the kidney. Ekko gasped. He lost his grip on his weapon and it clattered to the ground. Ren didn’t waste this opportunity and kicked it over the edge, sending it tumbling down towards the base of the Splinter. He then charged up another knee, but before this one could connect, Ekko pulled the cord.

Ren began to swing the pipe with wild abandon. Ekko dodged the incoming attacks and cut Ren’s pole in half. As before, he dodged the thrown pole, letting the kick slam into the railing and further damaging the augmentation. Ren swore. Ekko once again dodged the other half of the pole, but this time knew Ren’s charge was coming. He ran to meet him head on. Knowing that his club wouldn’t deter Ren, he instead pulled his arm back and delivered a backhand towards the face. Ren had no choice but to raise his hands to block it, and in this moment, Ekko stepped to the side and followed up with a jab to the exposed kidneys. This threw Ren off balance, and Ekko took the chance to deliver another blow to the augmentation.

However, Ren expected this. As the blade dug into the metal, Ren shot his elbow backwards into Ekko’s stomach. Not giving his opponent time to recover, Ren turned around and seized Ekko by his hair. He yanked it backwards, exposing Ekko’s neck.

“No fair fights in Zaun,” Ren repeated before punching at his vulnerable target.

Ekko reached for his cord, pulling it just as Ren’s punch connected. Time swirled backwards as Ekko coughed and gasped. When he returned to seconds prior, he leapt back further than the previous times in an attempt to buy himself more moments to recover his breath. He rubbed his throat and groaned, forcing himself to focus. But unlike the previous times, Ren didn’t charge forward. Instead he stood there, seemingly frozen, with the pipe gripped and at the ready. His eyes darted between Ekko and his forearm. He had noticed that it was covered in goosebumps. Ren knew what this meant. He had always gotten goosebumps when he was near Ekko after a rewind. He took a deep breath.

“How many times?” Ren asked, “how many times have we had this fight? Judging by your bruises it’s been a few.”

“You don’t need to know,” Ekko spat back, “cause in the only one that matters, I will be victorious.”

“I think one of those times mattered a lot more than you want to admit,” Ren continued to taunt as he looked over his opponent, “I see swelling around your shoulder. Did I manage to break that? I know broken bones mend after you rewind, but I also know that the pain doesn’t always fade. So how many more times am I going to need to snap that thing before you give up?”

“As many as it takes.”

Ren took another glance down at his augmentation. He spat.

“How fortunate you are to have that luxury,” Ren said in a voice dripping with as much anger as envy.

He began to tap his foot steadily.

“Some of us aren’t so lucky. Some of us have to live with the consequences of our actions.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I searched for you for days. I thought you were dead. I was devastated. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Ekko. Sorry doesn’t bring back my leg. Sorry doesn’t make me forget how my rotting flesh smelled. Sorry doesn’t undo the feelings of hopelessness that consume you when you think you’re going to die. Only Viktor has done anything to lift me up from that! And you want to put me through all of that again.”

“I’m trying to help you, you idiot!”

“Enough! You’ve had I don’t know how many chances to help, but in the ones that mattered you weren’t there. I’m starting to think that the reason you hate my augmentation is because it’s a reminder that you failed.”

Ren tapped his foot again. Enough time had passed that if Ekko rewound again, it would return them to this conversation. He had counted it. Now, with his head level once more, he reengaged. He charged with a half of the pole in each hand. With one, Ren swung high towards Ekko’s head while the other aimed for his stomach. Ekko maneuvered his club vertically, blocking both swings simultaneously but leaving his side exposed. Ren took advantage of this, pulling his arms back tightly and pivoting around the club. He snapped both arms out in a singular motion, nailing Ekko in the ribs.

Ekko pulled the cord and the Z-Drive flashed brilliantly.

Ren charged with a half a pole in each hand. With one, he swung high towards Ekko’s head while the other aimed for his stomach. Ekko maneuvered his club vertically, blocking both swings simultaneously but leaving his side exposed. However, he knew where Ren was about to move, so he swung his club in that direction, slapping Ren away with the flat of it. Ren pulled his arms up into a protective position and noticed that they were once again covered in fresh goosebumps. He shook his head and vowed to be more aware next time.

Ekko swung at him, aiming the dull half of the club towards his upper arm. Ren turned into the swing, blocking it with both poles. He then swung the pole closer to Ekko downwards, following the shape of his opponents arm towards the neck. Before it could connect, Ekko stepped back before returning with a lunging strike. Ren pivoted, letting his augmentation take the blow rather than his stomach. The metal dented beneath the force but did not puncture. He then brought the pole downwards on Ekko’s elbow.

Snap. Pull. Rewind.

Ren charged with a half a pole in each hand. He swung towards Ekko’s head and stomach. His eyes caught a glimpse of goosebumps on his forearms. Ekko blocked, as he had before, but Ren didn’t capitalize on his seemingly exposed side. Instead, he quickly chambered his leg and delivered a roundhouse kick. His struck Ekko, but only barely, with only the tip of his augmented foot getting around the club. Even still, the metal connecting with his side shocked Ekko enough that he leapt back to gain some distance. Ren smiled.

“Weren’t expecting that, were you?” Ren taunted.

Ekko only scowled in response, so Ren continued to talk on.

“I may not be as bright as you, but I can think on my feet quickly enough. I noticed that you rewound, so I made a quick change to my plan of attack. Now I just need to keep whittling you away. Not so fun to fight someone who knows how you work, is it?”

“Nah, it ain’t fun at all. But it will all be worth it once I knock some sense into you. As many times as it takes.”

“Even you don’t have that many tries,” Ren huffed, “just accept that Viktor was there for me when you weren’t. I know you distrust him,”

“It goes beyond distrust, Renatus, he tried to kidnap me or did you forget that?”

“I haven’t.”

“Then why do you still defend him?”

“Because I don’t think he’s a monster anymore. He just has really, really bad people skills.”

“That’s a poor excuse.”

“And your dislike of him, while a slightly less poor excuse, still isn’t enough of a reason for me to give up the one silver lining I have been clinging to since I lost my leg. And that silver lining is that I can do things now I never could before.”

As he had been talking, Ren was allowing his leg to charge. Now, he released it. Ren launched himself into the air and swung down powerfully with both poles. Ekko had no choice to dodge out of the way. The cement at the point of impact was scorched. The augmentation shuttered from the stress but Viktor’s handiwork held together.

“I’m living with the consequences of my actions,” Ren shouted as he continued his attack, “it’s time for you to do the same.”

Leaping from where he landed, Ren followed through with a charged roundhouse kick. Bracing with both hands, Ekko blocked it with the flat of his blade. The impact caused both the club and augmentation to reverberate unhappily. A fresh wave of lubricants and oil spilled from Ren’s limb, but he ignored it. Using the momentum from the kick, Ren swung both poles around together, aiming for Ekko’s fingers. With a twist of his wrist, Ekko turned his club so that Ren’s weapons now met with the sharpened edge, shearing them shorter. Ren threw them at Ekko’s feet. Then, with a charged shove, he threw himself into Ekko. They both tumbled backwards.

Ekko’s fist plated itself firmly in Ren’s gut. Ren bit back bile as his stomach churned form the blow, but he remained focused on his goal. He reached desperately for the Z-Drive. If he could take it from Ekko, this fight was over. Another of Ekko’s punches found their mark, this time in the kidney. Ren reflexively recoiled in pain. Ekko tried to use this chance to scramble back to his feet. Ren went to prop his augmentation up under himself but, to his surprise, the limb didn’t respond to his command. Too depleted of its vital liquids to function, his ankle seized up. Desperation gripped Ren. He had to force a rewind now.

With all the force of his remaining leg, he lunged at Ekko, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him back down. Ekko was better prepared this time, and brought his club down on the augmentation, tearing open a fresh gash.

“ _It doesn’t matter,_ ” Ren thought, “ _as long as I hurt him badly enough, he’ll rewind and undo this as well._ ”

He slammed Ekko to the ground and delivered a punch to his face. Warmth spilled over his hand as blood poured from Ekko’s broken nose. Ren felt the bile rising in his stomach again. Still, he pulled back his arm for another punch that would never connect.

Pull. Rewind.

“I’m living with the consequences of my actions,” Ren shouted as he continued his attack, “it’s time for you to do the same.”

Leaping from where he landed, Ren followed through with a charged roundhouse kick. Ekko blocked it with the flat of his blade. The impact caused both the club and augmentation to reverberate unhappily. A fresh wave of lubricants and oil spilled from Ren’s limb, but he ignored it. He pulled back his arms to swing, but caught sight of the goosebumps. Immediately he changed his attack. Ren dropped the poles and grabbed onto Ekko’s club. He yanked it down towards himself, pulling the two of them closer together. Up closer, he saw that Ekko’s nose was swollen and he knew what he had to do. Suddenly, Ren whipped his head backwards before slamming it into Ekko’s face. His head swooned from the impact, but he knew Ekko was probably faring much worse. He was correct.

Pull. Rewind.

“I’m living with the consequences of my actions,” Ren shouted as he continued his attack, “it’s time for you to do the same.”

Leaping from where he landed, Ren followed through with a charged roundhouse kick. Ekko didn’t block this time, choosing instead to leap out of the way. He jumped back towards the railing, hoping the space would give him the time he needed to quickly brush away the single drop of blood that dripped from his twice healed nose. He had only a moment before Ren was upon him again. Ren came swinging with the poles and Ekko met him with an attack of his own. With the longer reach, Ekko’s attack landed first, knocking one of the poles from Ren’s hand. He then quickly brushed the improvised weapon over the edge, determined not to trip on it again. If he could just get rid of the second one, the fight would be over. Ren would be forced onto the defensive.

Neither wanted to give the other much time to strategize, so again they charged. Ekko swung upwards towards his opponent’s arm and final shred of a weapon. Ren crouched low, dodging below the attack. Aided by his augmentation, he jumped towards the railing. He had hoped to use the railing like a springboard as before and land a decisive blow on Ekko’s back. But that hope vanished in an instant. As his leg touched down on the railing, his ankle, too depleted of its vital liquids to function, sized up. And backwards he fell.

Ren’s face morphed from confusion to alarm to fear in one long second. The pole slipped from his hand. His legs stumbled as they tried to balance. But nothing helped. In the last moment, his eyes met with Ekko’s. He looked equally conflicted.

“Ekko!” Ren cried out as he fell to the Splinter’s base.

Ekko’s shout reverberated throughout the canyon.

Pull. Rewind.

“I’m living with the consequences of my actions,” Ren shouted as he continued his attack, “it’s time for you to do the same.”

“Just shut up, will you,” Ekko growled under his breath as he steadied a trembling hand, “I’ve heard it before.”

Leaping from where he landed, Ren followed through with a charged roundhouse kick. Ekko decided to once more try blocking the kick. The impact caused both the club and augmentation to reverberate unhappily. A fresh wave of lubricants and oil spilled from Ren’s limb, but he ignored it. As Ren was pulling his arms back for another attack, Ekko shoved himself forward. Ekko knew Ren’s ankle would be weakened and capitalized on this knowledge. He slammed the flat of his club into Ren’s shoulder, shoving the other boy a few paces. With this opening, Ekko further increased the distance between them. Eat up seconds to ensure that any future rewind would bring them back to a moment before the augmentation was close to failure. Victory was close. Only who knows how many more times to go.

Ekko wiped the sweat from his forehead. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been pushed like this. He held his weapon with a steady grip and steeled his mind. Across from him, Ren was charging his augmentation. Ekko knew this would be the last time before the malfunction. He gave a shaking sigh. This was it. All he had to do was meet Ren one more time. He ran forward with his weapon raised. Focus. Focus. One more time. One perfect time. Focus. Focus.

He didn’t notice.

There was an angry hum and a bright flash of light. The laser struck Ekko in the leg. The stench of burning filled the air. Ekko collapsed onto the charred ground, blood oozing from his stump. As he howled in pain, Ren looked on mortified.

Pull. Rewind.

Ekko ran forward with his weapon raised. His mind was still reeling from the pain but he forced himself to dig in his heels and bring himself to an abrupt stop. The angry hum filled the air and there was a bright flash of light. The path of the laser scorched the ground right where Ekko would have been a moment later. He let out a stifled groan and gripped his leg. It was back, though from the knee down all he felt was pins and needles. He leaned on his club for support and looked upwards for the laser’s origins.

There, on the higher path, Viktor was standing. His third arm was still glowing and was poised for another attack. Ren looked dumbstruck. His eyes darted from Viktor to the scorch marks to Ekko’s violently trembling leg to the fresh goosebumps on his arms. Anger welled within him as he realized what happened.

“You, you,” Ren stammered as he still tried to find a target for his confused ire, “you would have,” he looked at Viktor, “but you,” he turned to Ekko, “you lost your leg right there, didn’t you?”

Ekko didn’t say anything. He only forced himself to steady.

“You lost your leg!” Ren repeated, “the same one, but you got to undo that!”

Now it was Ren who was trembling.

“Stand back, N-12,” Viktor commanded.

He pulled his gravity magnet device from where it hung at his waist. Energy crackled in the palm of his third arm. He was prepared for Ekko’s next move.

Ekko swore to himself. He had lost. In his heart he knew that he would collapse before he found a victorious path against two opponents. He took a defensive stance and moved closer to the railing.

“Looks like your master has come to save you,” he spat at Ren.

“Don’t change the subject!” Ren demanded, taking a step closer.

“I told you to stand back,” Viktor’s voice boomed, “I will finish this.”

A new ray for pure energy sprang forth from Viktor’s mechanical limb. Ekko was ready for it though, and he jumped over the railing to avoid it. With a light thud, he landed on unsteady feet on the pathway below. He cast a final, hateful look at the scientist.

“Crawl back to your lab,” he shouted.

And with that, Ekko retreated into the labyrinth on Zaun.

Ren ran to the railing and called out after him.

“Ekko! Get back here, we aren’t finished yet!”

“You are,” Viktor cut in.

Ren looked up at his rescuer with disdain.

“It is time for us to go, N-12,” Viktor continued.

Ren let out a long anguished cry that filled the Splinter’s Gorge.


	32. Chapter 32

“What malady has afflicted your mind!”

That was what Viktor wanted to shout at Ren as they returned to the factory, but he didn’t. He remained silent because Ren was silent. The boy hadn’t said a word since leaving Splinter’s Gorge. No chatter, no banter, no annoying comments, just the occasional grunt of pain as he dragged himself along behind Viktor.

People peeked through windows and bunched up to take a closer look at Ren. The noise from his fight had attracted quite the crowd, though he had been oblivious to it all. Viktor hated this unwanted attention. He let his third arm glow angrily and spread its fingers. Though the augmentation was not primed to attack, the posturing kept the crowd at bay. They tripped over each other to make room for Viktor and Ren as they passed, but refused to dissipate entirely. And above it all, their whispers could still be heard.

“Did you see all that?”

“Why were they fighting?”

“That was scary.”

“I thought he was going to kill that kid.”

“Who is that boy?”

“I didn’t think he had a son.”

“But did you see his augmentation?”

“I wish I had something like that.”

“Could crush a skull easily.”

“Monstrous strength.”

Ren tried and failed to keep the voices out of his head. In his mind, they mixed with Ekko’s words and replayed themselves until, at last, they had returned home. Rasping echoes filled the empty hallways of the factory as Ren dragged his augmentation behind him. His ankle had seized up not too long after the fight was interrupted, forcing him to shuffle slowly like he had when he received his first prosthetic.

Viktor held the door open as Ren stumbled into the surgery room.

“Sit,” Viktor ordered, “and take off the augmentation.”

Ren pulled himself onto the operating table, with no small measure of difficulty, and began to remove the damaged limb. Ekko had done a number on it. It was covered in dents and scratches. The gash on his shin was so covered in fluids that its original sheen was lost under the slick browns oils and rust of blood. Ren bit his lips and he removed the augmentation. Fresh pain rippled around his stump where the muscles and nerves connected to wires. The pit-pat of blood dripping seemed to echo in the silent room.

Viktor searched his cabinets for saline solution, degreasing wash, distilled water, and anything else that could be of use. He set the items on a trolley and pushed them over to Ren. Upon seeing the state of his augmentation, he bit back a spike of anger. How could the boy be so reckless with his work? Still, Ren was silent, so he remained silent, letting out only a long, disapproving sigh. Ren’s body tensed at this sound.

Viktor moved the augmentation aside and set himself to dressing Ren’s wounds. He started with the spilled oils and lubricants, removing the greasy substances before cleansing the area with the distilled water. Steadily he continued, tending to each cut and abrasion, of which there were many. He checked over Ren’s bruises to make sure none hid broken bones beneath. A chem-tech mixture was applied to them. A shiver ran down Ren’s spines as the solution cooled the area as if it were ice. And through this all, an unspoken tension began to steadily rise.

“Are you injured anywhere else?” Viktor asked.

“My soul,” Ren said with a sigh.

“Answer seriously,” Viktor scolded, “that boy is a nuisance and I won’t have him –“

“Ekko,” Ren cut in, “his name is Ekko.”

“Regardless of what he calls himself, I won’t allow him to endanger my work.”

“He’s not a nuisance either,” Ren continued, ignoring Viktor, “he’s my friend.”

At this Viktor scoffed.

“That was not friendly behavior I witnessed.”

“We couldn’t agree on something, that’s all.”

“A disagreement that will cost me hours in repairing your augmentation. You were fortunate that he did not damage the core. Even artificial crystals are difficult to replace.”

“Yeah well, Doc, I don’t feel very lucky.”

“You don’t,” Viktor said, his voice rising, “then here is another example of why you are lucky. Your doctor is not holding you as accountable for the damages as he should be. If you were this boy’s friend, as you claim to be, then you likely would have known his disdain towards my work. Is this true?”

Ren gave a weak nod.

“I thought he would understand,” he whispered.

“And yet you went anyways.”

Now it was Ren’s turn to raise his voice.

“How was I to know he would react so violently? I thought I could reason with him!”

Viktor gestured towards his damaged work.

“He attempted to maim you.”

“Destroy the augmentation, not maim. I don’t think he would try to maim me. He’s my friend.”

“You were incorrect in your assumption that you would be able to reason with him, you could be assuming his intentions incorrectly as well. People like him don’t understand our work. They are needlessly stubborn and willfully ignorant. I would recommend using the word “was” over “is” from now on.”

Viktor cradled the augmentation and brought it over to a table, turning his back on Ren. He didn’t notice Ren trembling. Ren’s heartrate was racing again. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and tried to make his battered body hold itself with some posture.

“You know, you’re right, Doc,” he said, his anger like steam about to blow the lid off a pot, “people don’t understand me. Not Ekko and not you.”

“You are a rash boy who is displaying behavior typical of his age. You act first and think of the consequences later. I had trusted you to behave responsibly and you went and nearly destroyed yourself.”

The lid flew off.

“I told you,” Ren howled, his already hoarse voice cracking further, “it wasn’t my fault, damn it! I’d say put yourself in my place, but I know you can’t. Empathy Doc, you don’t have it. So shut up! You have no idea what I’m feeling right now!”

Viktor let the augmentation fall onto the table. He turned. His displeasure radiated outward like a tangible force.

“I have no idea,” he said in his steady, cool voice, “is that so?”

But a hot anger was visible through these controlled words, like looking through the glass window of a stove and seeing the blazing fire within.

“How could I understand what it feels like to be attacked by someone who you thought was an ally? Never could I comprehend how it feels to learn that someone you thought was an intelligent, reasonable person, someone you considered your peer, could be too narrow-minded and stubborn to even consider looking at things objectively. And why would they? They think they are the hero. Their view is the only one that matters, no matter how many are injured or killed because of it. No matter how much it hinders advancement.”

Viktor moved towards Ren with each sentence. The aura of menace that emanated from behind his mask was so awful that Ren was beginning to wonder how fast he could hobble on one leg.

“And I would never know how it feels to be vilified by people who do not understand what you are trying to do. Nor would I have experienced the feeling of isolation that follows all of this. The anger, the blame, the desire to lash out at yourself and others. I could never have felt those intrusive emotions before. But you, N-12, feel these things.”

He was looming over the boy now. His third arm twitched restlessly while the rest of him stood gravely still.

“You know what it’s like to be the inhuman boogeyman that children whisper to each other about. I have no idea. Is that not right?”

Ren stared up in stunned silence.

“You are the one who has no idea,” Viktor continued after he didn’t get a response.

He turned towards the door.

“The automatons will bring you your old prosthetic,” he said as he opened the door, “and you will see yourself to your room. Go and be alone with your thoughts.”


	33. Chapter 33

There had been another death. The somber mood hung over the Academy like a blanket of smog. This time the diver had been the brother of one of the professors. Outside her office, students had been leaving flowers and letters of condolences. Viktor paused by her door. He had nothing to add to the piles, but bowed his head and offered a silent wish for her to find peace of mind.

Though Viktor disagreed with the Academy’s rule that her class, History of Runeterra, be mandatory, as it did little to benefit his of area of study, he recognized her passion and commitment to the subject. She didn’t deserve to be buried in grief, unable to share her knowledge with her students. Viktor couldn’t change the past, but he knew he could prevent further loss. It was this kind of work that made him famous in Zaun, and he knew that his talents would benefit Piltover just as much.

Viktor pushed open the door to the private workspace he and his partner had been granted for their work on the dock project. Jayce looked up from the newspaper and its grim headline. There were bags under his eyes as well.

“Another,” he sighed.

“Another,” Viktor repeated.

Viktor put his books down on the table and took a seat across from Jayce. He let out a deep sigh. On the one hand, Viktor knew that if anyone could solve this problem, it would be the two of them working together. On the other hand, Viktor found that he was still struggling to look Jayce in the eye. It had been weeks since his so-called friend had remained silent when he had lodged complaints with the Academy over the credit stolen for Blitzcrank’s design.

After the complaints had been dropped, Jayce had tried to comfort Viktor, saying that since the golem was sentient, it knew who its creator was, even if the academy didn’t validate its words. What’s more, Jayce reasoned, the golem was bettering the lives of Zaunites, and that’s all that really mattered, wasn’t it?

No, it wasn’t. Viktor found Jayce’s words empty. If his words had meant anything, they would have been backed up by action. He could have verified Viktor’s claims. He could have used his influence to shut down a sickening petition that promised to reclaim the golem from Zaun so that it could begin doing “better work” for the people of Piltover. He could have called Blitzcrank by his name rather than just refer to him as “golem.” But Jayce had done none of those things and Viktor believed he knew why.

Why would Jayce want to rock the boat or risk tarnishing his clean image by speaking out against one of Piltover’s most respected scientific minds in favor of some Zaunite? Why do this when he was a potential candidate to be one of the first handpicked students allowed to enroll in the new, advanced hextech courses? Why stand up for a friend when you have so much to gain by staying silent?

“Viktor,” Jayce said, “are you listening to me?”

Viktor shook his head as he snapped back to attention.

“I didn’t think so,” Jayce continued, “look, I’m losing sleep over this too, but the longer it takes for us to fix this, the worse we look and the longer it keeps people in danger. So, focus, alright?”

Viktor nodded and began searching through his folders for his blueprints. As he did this, Jayce kept talking.

“I thought we had it for sure with the last design. Your improved chem-lanterns, while not hextech, doubled the diver’s visibility, and my improved joint design gave them more mobility. So what? Every diver who has died was ranting about lights in the depths or phantoms. Did you hear, that student whose mum is from Bilgewater is claiming that the lights are from some creature called Nautilus. He says that Nautilus has come to punish us for not following some old superstition about throwing coins in the sea. Then there are others saying that the lights are the ghosts of the Zaunites who drowned while the Gates were being made and that they’ve come back for revenge.

I say both of these ideas are rubbish. If these lights are anything, they’re most likely a sign nitrogen narcosis. Hallucinations and hysteria are both symptoms of it. So there’s our problem. How do we improve the pumps to keep the nitrogen from building up in their suits? Maybe I could invent some smaller, portable hextech pump that they could carry with them along with some contained air?”

“Hextech isn’t always the solution,” Viktor finally cut it, “do not forget, hextech crystals generate electricity. If the core isn’t stable and if there is any damage to the insulation around it or the wires connected to it, our divers, who will be, remember, underwater, will be electrocuted in their suits. No, hextech technology isn’t ready yet.”

“But what if I make it ready? What if I make controlling this the focus of my research? Then I go down in history as the man who conquered the deep and we make life safer for all dock cleaners.”

“That will take time, and as you said, the longer we take, the longer people are in danger,” Viktor said as he pulled his blueprints from his folder, “besides, I do not believe that nitrogen narcosis is the problem. Jayce, these suits are our designs. We would not have made them the way they are if the pumps were a problem. We even took precautions to have helium mixed into the diver’s air supply. No, I believe that statement you made about the ghosts is more to blame for the deaths than nitrogen narcosis.”

“Ghosts? Seriously Viktor,” Jayce scoffed, “since when did you become a superstitious man?”

“I am not,” Viktor answered vehemently, “but the divers might be. I believe that these deaths are due purely to human error. I imagine that these dives are harrowing experiences for them. They are going deeper than ever before, have limited visibility, more restricted movement, and now they are hearing rumors about vengeful spirits. Wouldn’t you feel anxious?”

A non-committal grunt was Jayce’s response.

“So what do you suggest,” Jayce continued, “rework our entire designs to make the suits roomier? That we somehow improve the chem-lanterns and mobility even more?”

“No,” Viktor said, “that would take time and likely exceed our budget. Please, we should at least try my first plan.”

Viktor pushed his papers over to Jayce.

“I revised the shunt’s design. I made it as small as possible without sacrificing efficiency. Most of the divers will be able to hide it under their hair or a hat, and when they retire, there would be a procedure to remove it.”

Jayce gave a deep sigh.

“Viktor,” he said sternly.

“I have performed this procedure before in Zaun,” Viktor continued, “it has-“

“Viktor!”

Jayce slammed his hand on the table.

“I don’t care what you do in Zaun,” Jayce said with a voice filled with irritated exasperation, “I don’t care what chemicals you all go pumping yourselves with down there, but we do things differently in Piltover. We don’t enslave ourselves to chemicals. I will not force a citizen of Piltover to forfeit their free will to some Chem-Baron’s drug.”

He tore the blueprints in half and let the scraps fall to the floor.

“I don’t want to hear about these shunts again, Viktor.”

Jayce stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Viktor to pick up the pieces.

* * * * *

Viktor let out a long sigh that slowly turned into a yawn. Sleep was evading him this night. Instead, unpleasant memories clung to his thoughts, filling him with a deep restlessness. He looked over to his cabinets, filled with possible solutions. He could grab a sleep aid, booster for his emotions suppressing implants, or jar of powdered anise to calm his mind. But he didn’t.

Viktor ran his fingers through his dark hair. There had to be a reason these memories had haunted him for three nights now. Perhaps it was because the atmosphere in the factory felt as the Academy’s had all those years ago; anxious and sorrowful. Or maybe it was his anger towards the boy, and his rash behavior that reminded Viktor of the divers and their irrational emotions that doomed them and others. No. Viktor knew why.

It was because Ren was wrong. Viktor knew exactly how Ren was feeling. He had felt it that day when Jayce tore his blueprints. He felt it when Blitzcrank’s credit was stolen. He felt it when he was expelled from the Academy. Even after all his augmentations, he felt it when Jayce had attacked his lab and killed all the people he had been trying to save. Yes, Viktor knew the pain of betrayal and all the anger and sorrow that came after it.

He knew how Ren was feeling and he knew he couldn’t let the boy the stay like that. He didn’t want Ren to sink to the depths of depression as he had. Luckily though, he already knew the solution. Viktor went to his desk and pulled one of his oldest notebooks from the drawers. He began to reread the notes on the augmentations. It wouldn’t hurt to refresh his memory on the procedures. After all, it had been years since he had transformed himself.


	34. Chapter 34

Viktor looked down at the trays of food that the automatons had left outside of Ren’s room. Most were untouched and those that had been picked at weren’t finished. He stepped over them and knocked on the door. No response. He knocked again. This time there was a shuffling sound from behind the door. With a click, it opened.

“What do you want?” Ren demanded.

He looked awful. Dark circles had formed under his eyes and his hair was greasy and unkempt. The bruises from his fight had bloomed into an angry maroon color. What was most concerning though was his leg. Though his augmentation had been repaired and returned, Ren was not wearing it. It sat untouched on a table in the corner of his room. Instead, his older prosthetic was in its place.

“I have come to talk,” Viktor said, ignoring Ren’s bitter tone.

“I don’t want to talk,” Ren responded.

He went to close the door, but Viktor stuck his arm in the way.

“This is not optional,” he said.

“But what if I don’t care, huh Doc? What if I don’t care about anything anymore?”

“That’s precisely why I am here. I have a solution to your apathy.”

“And what is it?”

“Join me in the training hall and I will show you. Furthermore, ensure that you are wearing your augmentation.”

“Yeah,” Ren huffed, “sure, I’ll humor you.”

Viktor turned to leave as Ren closed the door behind him.

“I will return if you fail to show up.”

“I said sure,” Ren shot back.

Viktor let out a quick sigh as he walked away. Today he would not let Ren’s emotions affect his own. In the training hall, Viktor laid out the notes detailing how he had augmented himself years ago. On the wall, he pinned up a new diagram that showed his plans for Ren.

“ _A matching leg to begin with,_ ” Viktor mused to himself, “ _implants in the knuckles maybe? Replace bone with metal. Nothing obtrusive. He should remain light and agile. Possible chem-implants? Which ones?”_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of door opening. Ren walked in, looking about as disheveled as he had in his room. Though he had switched the prosthetic for his augmentation, he pulled his lounging pants back on rather than put on proper clothing. Viktor chose not to acknowledge it. Patience was the word of the day.

“So what’s this cure, Doc?” Ren sighed.

“Augmentation,” Viktor responded.

“Of course it is,” Ren scoffed, “you gonna replace my heart with clockwork a gizmo?”

Viktor took a deep breath.

“Listen to me,” he said in a steady tone, “I understand what you are feeling. You were betrayed by a friend you respected and believed that they respected you. Now you feel isolated. He did not care about your wellbeing so now, why should you? You failed to make him understand you. Now this failure is all you can think about. You are probably even wondering if everything you have done up to this point has been a mistake. Are you now damned to exist forever as a failure?”

“You gotta rub it in like that?”

“I am not ‘rubbing it in,’ I am attempting to empathize with you, N-12. Forgive me if I am not proficient at it.”

Ren’s muscles relaxed and he let out a long sigh.

“No, no you aren’t,” he said, “but I appreciate the effort, Doc.”

“I know what you are feeling because I also experienced that pain long ago. Now, I offer the same solution I used.”

Viktor pointed to the diagram on the wall and the papers on the table.

“I will augment you the same way I augmented myself. I will rid you of your emotions. You will not be burdened by fear or sorrow again.”

Ren looked over the pages. He pushed some aside immediately and others he absorbed in their entirety. The diagrams of the chem-shunts for the brain sent a chill down his spine. His fingers tapped restlessly on the table as he read. Viktor watched silently. At last, Ren looked up from the papers and stared at the plans on the wall.

“I appreciate it, Doc, really I do,” he said, “but I just don’t think I can do it. That’s not me in that drawing.”

Viktor remembered how he had felt after his expulsion and how desperate he had been for any relief from his depression. He had thought Ren would be the same. His response was unexpected.

“It can be though,” Viktor responded, “why would chose to remain suffering?”

“Because,” Ren said, “because, I don’t want that to be me. I don’t want to suffer. I don’t want to be afraid or sad, but there are also things I want less than these feelings. And then there are the things I do want. I want to be a better Ren, but not like that. I want to be better through my way. I want my emotions, as awful as they can be. I don’t want to give them up. I want to be Renatus, not Viktor.”

Ren paused and the room was silent for a moment.

“Heh,” he continued, “now I’m being so wordy even I don’t know I’m saying. Let me try again. Okay. I don’t want to become the monster he said you would make me.”

“I do not seek to turn you into a monster.”

“I know that, but Zaun, all of them, they don’t know that. You said it yourself; you know they treat you like a boogeyman. I don’t want to feed into that narrative. Because, if I do, we lose.”

“We would lose nothing. Their opinions will mean nothing to you after you are augmented.”

“And I’m sure that they wouldn’t, but their opinions matter to me now. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“No, I do not. You are letting your emotions impair your judgement.”

“Well, I’m going to let them keep impairing me. No, that’s not right. I’m going to let them keep aiding my decisions.”

Viktor sighed.

“ _Like Moyna,_ ” Viktor thought, “ _he insists that there is merit in emotion. Why do they believe this? It’s irrational. Why?_ ”

“Enlighten me,” Viktor asked, “how do you plan to proceed then? If you do not wish to be augmented, tell me what you will do. I will not allow you to return to your isolation without a plan to progress forward.”

Ren rubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t really have a plan,” he confessed, “I didn’t think much past my room. I need a minute.”

Ren stood up and began to pace. His eyes kept going the illustrations on the wall, his thoughts were on his legs, and his fingers traced the outline of the bruises on his arm. His disjointed thoughts came to halt as his accidentally pressed too hard on a particularly sensitive bruise. With a huff, he looked down at the offending area. The bruise overlapped his flame tattoo.

A bittersweet memory flashed through his mind as he looked it. He remembered after he got it he had joked with Freckles and Curly that he would fight back any Chem-Baron thug that threatened them with ‘fiery punches of justice’ or something along those lines. The words weren’t important anyways. What had been was how the kids had looked at him. It was as far from how they looked at him last as you could get. Back then he wasn’t a monster, he was a hero.

All at once, his thoughts became clear. What he wanted. How to become a better Ren. How to change Zaun’s view of Viktor. How to prove Ekko wrong. It was time to stop dreaming about it. It was time to take advantage of Viktor’s brilliance and his inventions to make his old joke a reality.

“I know what I’m going to do,” he blurted out.

“And what is that?”

“You’re not going to make a monster of me, Doc,” he said as the faintest smile returned to his face, “you’re gonna make me a hero.”

Viktor was silent as he pondered Ren’s words, but before he had time to fully reflect on what he said, Ren was talking again and twice as fast.

“Yeah, a real champion. I’ll fight off the Chem-Baron’s bullies and gang thugs. I’ll make a show of it and my augmentation. Maybe use some other gadgets. I'll be nice and flashy, leaping from buildings and across gorges. And when the people of Zaun ask how I’m able to do all these things, I’ll tell them. They will know that all of this is possible because of Viktor. I’ll make them see you as a maker of champions. But this only going to work if I can keep my emotions. I need to be approachable, so my natural charisma will be crucial for this plan. So, leave my emotions, as unreliable as they can be, they are necessary. Other things we can discuss. So Doc, what do you think? Crystal?”

Ren’s chest was heaving as though he had said all that in a single breath. Viktor looked over the boy in disbelief. It was a foolish plan in his mind. However, if it pulled Ren from his depression, he would be willing to play along for a little while. Perhaps he could even use this as an opportunity to have Ren field test some of his other inventions.

“Very well, N-12,” Viktor finally answered, “I will agree to this experiment, but only after you produce a more detailed, organized, and actionable plan.”

Ren gave a weak smile.

“Thanks, Doc.”


	35. Chapter 35

The workshop was abuzz with activity. The walls were covered with blueprints and drawings while the tables were covered with scrap metal and tools. Viktor and Ren passed ideas back and forth freely. Some they agreed upon while many others were met with a “nope” or “unacceptable.”

“Let’s start with these,” Ren suggested as he placed his geared knuckles on the table.

“Those were a temporary tool for you,” Viktor said, “they were hastily constructed. If you want to display yourself as a product of my skills, you should be carrying around better examples of my work.”

“But I like these, Doc. They’re comfortable, suit my fighting style, and the gears look wicked cool. Maybe we could improve on their design instead of throwing them out completely?”

“I agree that a pugilist’s fighting style is a good match for you, which is why I had already begun plans for a new set of new knuckles.”

“Oh cool, but just so we’re on the same page, these new knuckles are for over the skin, right? Not under the skin?”

“These ones are not an augmentation but a weapon you can equip as needed. Your previous veto of my last three blueprints was more than sufficient that a permanent augmentation to your hands was unwanted.”

“Hey, I want to keep all the feeling in my fingers. It helps with my art.”

“You mentioned that before.”

Viktor handed over the blueprint for the new knuckleduster designs. Ren flipped through them eagerly.

“Oh, they will have an electrical charge now. I like it,” Ren commented, “no big chem-battery attachment though. I hope you don’t plan on having them draw power from my leg. I don’t want to think about all the wire over me.”

“Do you think my designs would be that cumbersome?”

“No, sorry for even suggesting it. I’ll let you worry about powering them your way. My only real criticism is that they don’t look as cool as the gear ones. Could we change that back? We can use new materials, but could we still have the gear shape? It’s more interesting than basic spikes or a blade.”

“This is the most efficient shape. Functionality over form, N-12.”

“I know, I know, but remember, form is part of the function. I need to look cool if I’m going to be a hero.”

“What you need is to be able to help people.”

“But I want to look cool while doing it. Here’s a compromise. If we can make these look like gears then I will stop pestering you about needing to buy gold colored clothing. I’ll agree to your subtle color scheme, even if it means that I won’t be able to match Blitzcrank.”

Viktor agreed. He still thought that his original design was the best, but if it meant that he didn’t need to hear Ren go on about shimmering fabric anymore, a change of design was a small price to pay.

“Thanks, Doc,” Ren chirped, “now, if you don’t mind me asking, how are we going to power these without a chem-battery?”

“Crystals,” Viktor answered.

“That makes sense. How do you keep coming across them? I thought hex crystals were super rare.”

“A true crystal,” Viktor explained as he pointed to his staff, “is incredibly rare. Artificial crystals can be created. Piltover hordes them.”

“Ah, so this is where your special friend comes in?”

“Moyna. She has smuggled these crystals for me before and I have requested that she do so for me again.”

“That sounds very cool but also very expensive.”

“It is. These weapons will cost me an arm and a leg.”

“Woah, a rare sighting of hyperbole from the scientist. Now I need to know. How many cogs is this going to cost?”

“None. Moyna and I exchange goods, not currency. I have been working on a pair of augmentations for her. One will be sent to another of her clients, who lost an arm to a Baron’s thug. The other she requested is a leg to be sent back to Ionia for a war veteran and close friend of the family.”

“Ah, well. Not much I can do then. Maybe I could offer a drawing?”

“She has already agreed to the trade. Your offer is appreciated but not necessary.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“In regards to your weapons, no. What I want you to do is finalize the designs for your armor. Avoid adding protrusions that enemies could take advantage of to grab you. This includes any spikes you deem as ‘wicked.’ Additionally, mind the weight of your design. Your agility is one of your best assets; do not over burden yourself with unnecessary additions or an unbalanced distribution of weight.”

“I’ll try, but I make no promises. Besides, this is only draft one.”

Ren took a stack of a paper and sat at a desk. He twirled his pencil between his fingers as he thought about how his design.

_“Best to start with my left leg I suppose,”_ he thought, “ _Viktor said balance, so I should probably have an armored boot to match my augmentation. Nothing too big though, steel toes should be enough. Leather padding for my shin. I can’t shake the feeling like I absolutely need something for my knee. Right, so metal there. Upper thighs? Probably should keep it simple. I bet Doc has a utility belt of something for the gadgets I’ll be carrying. I’ll let him come up with that part. I’ll just add a cool looking belt buckle later myself.”_

_“For my chest, I think something form fitting would be best. It can’t get in my way. A would like a sleeveless jacket at the most. Just add a little ‘woosh’ to my movements. Beyond that, I don’t know. I’ll try out a few things before deciding. Arms. What to do about them? Well, my right arm must be bare because what’s the point of a tattoo if you can’t show it off? Doc will probably fight me on this. Exposed flesh is just asking for lacerations and all that. Maybe we can compromise; one arm clothed, the other not."_

Ren stretched his neck and looked up from his drawings. He was pleased with his progress but still felt that his designs were lacking something. He resumed twirling the pencil as his mind wandered for inspiration. His eyes came to rest on Viktor. The scientist was working to build diminutive containers that would securely contain the crystals without protruding from the brass knuckles. His back was hunched as he focused on the delicate work. The faint hum of the third arm was the only sound coming from him.

For several minutes, Ren watched in silence. The occasional orange glow from the laser soldering the metal would illuminate Viktor’s silhouette. For a man who claimed he didn’t want to be viewed as a monster, he cast an imposing shadow. Ren sighed. He knew he had his work cut out for him if he wanted to make that figure more approachable. An idea suddenly came to him.

_“I know,”_ he thought, _“what I need to do. It’s not enough to say I represent the Doc, but I should look like him as well. Gotta be obvious that I was made by him. Let’s just adjust the design of my shoulders a bit. There, over my left arm I’ll ask for a big shoulder bit like he has. It’s the opposite side as my augmentation, so hopefully the weight will all balance out. Yeah, this is looking good. Maybe I can add some flames or gears or something to this as well. I’ll leave the decorations out of the sketch for now.”_

_“Finally, I think I need a scarf or cowl. A full cape like his would only get in my way. There, our silhouettes look closer now. I know he has something planned for my face. I just hope it’s not a full mask. I want people to see my face. Yup, a friendly face alongside an intimidating augmentation and fiery explosions.”_

“Hey, Doc,” Ren spoke up, “I’ve got a first draft for you to look at.”

Viktor put down his work and held out his hand.

“Let me review it,” he ordered.

Ren handed over the papers before leaning back against the table, trying to give off an air of calm despite the eagerness welling within him. Viktor studied the illustrations without comment for several minutes.

“These designs are passable,” he commented, “for a first draft. The boot, knee guard, and padding for your shins can all be accommodated. The decision to remain sleeveless is foolish. Exposing flesh is risking lacerations. That should be changed to better protect you. I have no strong opinions about the jacket.”

“And the shoulder pad?” Ren asked.

“I do not see why such a large piece of armor is needed,” Viktor answered, “a set of smaller spaulders would be more efficient.”

“Well, this might be one of those functionality is the form moments.”

“Elaborate.”

“I want it to look like yours.”

Another minute of silence.

“Elaborate further,” Viktor asked.

“Well, I’m your partner, aren’t I?”

More silence.

“We should look a little bit like each other a little bit,” Ren blurted out quickly to fill the empty air, “so that when they see me they think of you. I’m not talking an exact copy. More like little hints here and there. Like, you can keep your cape and I will settle for a scarf and I won’t wear navy. That color suits you better. I prefer warm colors personally. And then-“

“I will allow it,” Viktor interrupted.

“Wait, really?” Ren balked, “I thought it was going to take way more convincing.”

“It is not the worst idea you have had.”

Ren smiled.

“I will of course be making a few modifications,” Viktor continued, “but I will keep it as close to the original design as possible.”

“So no third arm, then?” Ren joked.

“No.” Viktor responded, completely seriously.

“Come on, Doc. Can’t you tell I was joking?”

“N-12, if you wish for me to take your designs seriously, then I request that you limit them to only genuine requests.”

“Alright, I can agree to that. But, you know, by agreeing to this it means that any suggestion is serious then.”

“I have been considering everything you have presented as serious. That is what a respectful colleague would do.”

Ren could feel his cheeks flush with warmth.

“Yeah,” he said, “I suppose it is.”

Then Viktor asked Ren something he didn’t think he would ever hear; a personal question.

“What is your favorite color?”


	36. Chapter 36

“Not half bad, Viktor,” Moyna said with an approving nod, “not bad at all.”

“He could still be improved,” Viktor responded.

Ren stood before them, glowing with pride.

“Not bad,” Ren huffed, “I think amazing is a more accurate word.”

The new clothes that covered him only added credibility to his statement. His jacket was black in color and, for one day only, completely devoid of any stains from the Gray. Its sleeves were longer than Ren would have liked and covered his tattoo, but he couldn’t complain about the comfort and mobility it allowed him. Best of all, he was able to add some personal flair by sewing bolts onto the shoulders in a style not dissimilar to a chempunk’s studded jacket. 

His pants were a dark shade of charcoal and had also been modified by Ren. He had hemmed up one of the legs so that his augmentation would be visible in all its glory. He wasn’t going to hide it anymore. Freshly polished, it shone in the sunlight. Ren took the uncharacteristically clear sky as a sign that their endeavor had Janna’s blessing.

The light also gleamed off his left pauldron. Though smaller than Viktor’s, Ren’s armor still helped to give him the wider silhouette he desired. The shape of the pauldron was also smoother than Viktor’s since it didn’t need to accommodate a third arm. To Ren’s eye, it was a blank canvas just waiting to have something painted onto it.

What was his favorite part of this whole outfit though was what rested around his neck. It was a scarf dyed boldly in in his favorite color. He ran his fingers over the bright, vivacious, orange color, his smile growing wider as he did so. 

“This is way better than anything I drew, because it’s real. Wow! I can hardly believe this! I feel like a hero already.”

“You still need to earn that title,” Viktor said.

“I know, but it’s so close. So, so close.”

“Attempt to restrain yourself a little longer,” Viktor said, “I still have not given you your weapons.”

“Yes,” Moyna added, “this is what I wanted to see. You know I like to drop off your goods and bolt, but I’ll make an exception for hextech.”

“Are you curious to see if this could be added onto your claws?” Viktor asked.

“A little,” Moyna blushed as she stroked her wrist mounted augmentation.

“If it proves to be useful,” Viktor continued, “I will consider upgrading your augmentation.”

“Oh, they will be useful,” Ren chimed in, “come on, Doc, we’re waiting.”

All eyes were on Viktor. He reached down and opened the case at his feet, pulling from it Ren’s new weapons. Fierce and eye-catching, Viktor’s creations were a sight to behold. The weapons were more akin to gauntlets than traditional knuckledusters. They fit over the entire hand and strapped down around both the forearm and palm. A row of gear teeth were cleanly welded to the knuckles, while above the joint, four gear shaped talons rested. The edges had been grinded down to a dangerous edge. Viktor had also coated these edges with copper, giving them a warm sheen that complimented the color of Ren’s scarf.

The choice of metal was not exclusively for appearance though. That was more of a happy coincidence. In reality, copper had been selected for its conductivity. Wires ran from the base of the talons to a power source on the back of the hand. Viktor had taken extra precautions to ensure that the hex crystals were attached safely attached and protected in their cells. Tiny as they may be, he knew these crystals were more than sufficient to cause a nasty shock.

“Come here,” Viktor ordered.

Ren was beside him in a bound. He held out his hand and Viktor slid the gauntlets on.

“How is the fit?” Viktor asked.

“Mmm, perfect,” Ren replied as he brought the gauntlets to eye level to marvel at them.

“I would advise keeping them away from your face for the next part, N-12.”

Ren snapped his arms back down to his sides.

“In your palm,” Viktor continued, “you should feel the lever. Along its side there is a switch. Press it to activate the crystal.”

Doing as instructed, Ren felt for and found the diminutive switch. He flicked it on and instantly light began to glow from the crystal’s casing. The gauntlet vibrated as the hex crystal hummed to life. Ren felt a jolt pass through him, but whether it was from the electricity or his own excitement, he could not tell.

“Now the lever will be unlocked. Pull it and the crystals will empower the gauntlets.”

Without waiting another moment, Ren pulled the lever. A sharp hissing filled the air as an electrical current danced forth from the crystals and along the copper tipped talons. Ren gasped.

“It tingles a bit,” he laughed, excitement overflowing, “look at the little sparks! Are you seeing this? How wicked is this? Quick, what something I can test this on?”

Viktor gestured towards an old “KEEP OUT” sign from when the factory had first been closed. In Viktor’s entire residence in the place, nobody had ever ventured near, rendering the sign unnecessary in his eyes.

Without further hesitation, Ren rushed to towards the sign and delivered an honest, simple punch to the center of the sign. The rusted metal groaned on impact as sparks leapt from Ren’s talons and skittered across the surface. As he pulled back his hand, four small dents from the gears’ teeth were left in the sign. A wild smile crossed Ren’s face as he started to laugh.

“Your boy has gone mad with power, Viktor,” Moyna commented.

“Not mad!” Ren chirped as he leapt over to Moyna, “I’m thrilled! This is the happiest I’ve been in a while.”

He raised both hands before himself and held them out before her. The sudden closeness had her hair on end.

“Look,” Ren continued as he energized both gauntlets at once, “I’m ecstatic because of the static. Heh.”

Moyna gave a weak laugh as she cast a quick look at Viktor; a silent plea for him to rein his young partner in.

“Contain your enthusiasm, N-12,” Viktor cut in, “at least until I finish explaining how to safely operate them.”

“Ah, yes,” Ren answered as he let the charge dissipate and stepped back from Moyna, “crystal.”

“Crystal indeed,” Viktor sighed, “they are what you need to understand. The hex crystals that power your weapons are small but I was able to wire them in such a manner that they are both stable and are capable of producing charge strong enough to make a chem-numbed thug stagger.”

“However, the tradeoff of this power is that the crystals cannot maintain that level output for more than a few seconds. To prevent overheating, I installed emergency breakers that will disrupt the current and give the crystals time to cool down. I advise charging the gauntlets only in a fight. I know you will want to posture with them, but please refrain from doing so.”

“Fine,” Ren said with reluctance, “but how am I supposed to show off your inventions without using them. Flying sparks will get people’s attentions.”

“The intent is to gain attention. Combat is not the sole way to achieve this. There will be no lack of opportunities for you to provide aid in the Sump. Hazard removal and medical aid are also services you can provide.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just know my skills are more in the kicking and punching area.”

“Then you are fortunate that my skills are of the inventive nature and I will be equipping you. I have prepared a pack for when you depart. It contains medical supplies, absorption pellets for spills, vent and filter repair equipment, a flameless chem-lantern, and a variety of other useful objects.”

“Thanks. It sounds like you’ve taken care of everything. So, am I ready to head out to try hero stuff?”

“No.”

Ren furrowed his brow.

“What else am I missing?” he asked.

“This last piece,” Viktor answered.

From behind his back, Viktor produced a small box and handed it to Ren. The boy took the box and cautiously opened it.

“I thought it wasn’t ready yet,” he gasped.

“Completing this appeared more beneficial than sleep,” Viktor answered, “I am positive it will give you the advantage you seek.”

Ren took the prize from the box and cradled it in his hands. It was a monocle that would make Chem-Barons envious. The lens was made of the highest quality of glass, and the metal frame and hardened leather that held it were of equal quality. Unlike the daintier monocles of Piltover fashion, this one was more akin to the goggles worn by Sump workers. The thick bands of metal had been finished with a patina that made it match the copper on his gauntlets. Even the clasp was bulkier and more ornate with Viktor’s makers mark stamped boldly onto it.

Ren ran his fingers along rim of the glass. As he did, he felt the subtle spinning of a dial and heard the faint click of gears. He brought the monocle closer and turned the dial again. To his amazement, additional lenses began to move over the main one. Some were obvious in their intent as simple magnifying lenses, while others were tinted different colors or had wires circling them.

“It is the monocular focusing lens,” Viktor explained as Ren continued with fascination to study the object, “it is an altered version of the lenses in my mask. It will enable you to focus on distant object, improve your vision in the dark, detect sources of heat, and even locate electrical fields. I admit that the design is still more obtrusive than I would prefer, but it had to compensate for your eyes being unaugmented. I –“

“It’s perfect!” Ren exclaimed, “I love it just how it is. This monocular monocle looks so Zaun. All it’s missing is a catchy name.”

“It has a name. It is the monocular focusing lens.”

“That’s a mouthful. We need something simpler.”

“It does not need a simpler name. Its current designation provides ample clarity of what the device is capable of doing.”

“Let’s see, it’s kinda a monocle,” Ren continued on, “but that also sounds way too proper. But it also looks like a goggle. Hmm, monocle goggle, monocle goggle, mo-goggle, mono-goggle, mo-ggle. That’s it, moggle. What do you think?”

“It is a word you invented,” Viktor stated bluntly.

Moyna stifled a laugh.

“We can workshop the name more later,” Ren said with a sigh, “right now, I just want to put this on.”

“Let me assist you,” Viktor ordered, “place the lens over your eye and I will secure it in place.”

Ren held the device up to his eye as Viktor took hold of the three straps attached to it. The first two straps wrapped around the head while the third went over. Viktor strapped them tightly together then pressed a button hidden within the pattern of his makers mark. Ren’s hair briefly stood on end as electricity began to run through the device.

“Whoa! What?” Ren blurted out, “they’re powered?”

Moyna smiled and nodded.

“Viktor asked me to swipe a third crystal as a surprise,” she said.

“The power was needed for the lenses to work at their full potential,” Viktor explained, “the chemicals used to treat several of the lenses react when an electrical current runs through them. This is what enables the more advanced functions.”

“This is the coolest. I don’t think I could ask for more. Thank you, Doc. And thank you, Moyna,” Ren said. His cheeks were warm and rosy. “Ah, that reminds me, I’ve got something for you. I’ll be right back.”

Ren took off into the factory. With him gone, Moyna let out a sigh and let herself relax.

“He’s a cute kid, Viktor,” she said, “a bit too energetic for me though. Truly you must have the patience of an Ionian monk to live with someone so exuberant.”

“Having patience is easier when you inhibit your emotions. Additionally, he is only this lively when he is excited. Otherwise he is content to be silent and illustrate.”

“And does he excite easily?”

“Incredibly so.”

“Hmm.”

Ren returned before they could say much more, panting and holding a rolled up piece of paper.

“For you,” he said, extending the piece to Moyna.

Gingerly, she took the paper and unrolled it. It was a new drawing. It showed a feminine robot assembled from various mismatched parts and pieces. She sat surrounded by piles of scrap metal and discarded pieces of old machinery. In her hands, she cradled a cog, upon which her gaze was intently focused. Below her, the word “Potential” was written.

“Oh,” she smiled, “you drew this? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s not much,” Ren answered, “but when I learned that you would be risking your life to get those crystals, I knew I had to do something for you back, even if the Doc was already paying you.”

“Thank you, Ren,” she said, “I know I’ll find some place in my home to hang it up.”

Viktor heard the chimes of the old factory clock announce that it was noon. He knew that, like clockwork, his final surprise for Ren would be arriving any second now.

“There is one final boon I have for you before you head out,” Viktor said.

“More?” Ren asked.

No sooner had the question been asked, than the gears to the lift began to turn. Ren turned around just as plume of pipping steam crested the edge of the cliff. His eyes widened. Stepping off the lift was Blitzcrank.

“Greetings,” the golem stated, “I have arrived precisely as requested and am ready to accompany subject N-12, Renatus.”

“I trust you to keep him safe,” Viktor responded before turning to Ren, “when you are ready, go with Blitzcrank.”

“I don’t think I could be more ready,” Ren said, “I’ll make you proud.”


	37. Chapter 37

The deeper into the Sump they descended, the thicker the Gray became. Ren would have preferred to climb their way down by way of stairways, catwalks, and pipes, but Blitzcrank, due to his size and weight, opposed. And so instead, the pair was crammed into one of Zaun’s many hexdraulic lifts. The steam that puffed from Blitzcrank fogged up the glass walls of the lift, giving them an impromptu cleaning.

Through the combination of humidity and people packed around him, Ren began to sweat. With each set of eyes that passed over him, Ren became hyper aware of each fashion statement he had chosen to make with his outfit.

_"They’re staring,”_ he thought, _“and I’m not even doing anything. Come on Ren, this is what you wanted. Act cool. Champion hero cool.”_

He adjusted the moggle and flashed a bright smile at a fellow passenger, who immediately turned away in awkwardness. Ren sighed and leaned back against Blitzcrank.

_“That could have gone better. Was the smile too much? Are the studs too much? Janna’s mercy, can’t this thing go any faster?”_

Thoughts tumbled through Ren’s head until the lift came to a groaning halt at its lowest stop. As the doors opened, Ren burst out, more than eager to breathe in the sharp, acidic air of the Sump. He took a deep breath and promptly sneezed.

“Ah, that’s the kind of air that burns your nose hairs off,” he said as he rubbed the sides of his nose, “So, Blitzcrank, do you know where we are? I would bet good cogs that we’re near a factory, but which one?”

Blitzcrank pointed towards a large building brooding in the distance and spewing out its contribution to the Gray.

“That is the Whitecap Factory,” the golem stated, “it is owned by Clan Blankenship who serves Clan Medarda in Piltover. They produce chemicals used in the cleaning and maintenance of shipping vessels in Piltover’s ports. They also export their good to Noxus.”

“Let’s head that way,” Ren suggested, “I don’t think that any factory in Zaun is truly accident free, so if anyone is going to need our help, it’s going to be there.”

“An educated assumption,” Blitzcrank stated.

“No more waiting around. Off we go!”

“Affirmative.”

The streets of the Sump were narrow, crooked, and cluttered. At times, some were more sluice than street. Many were too small for Blitzcrank, and forced the pair to make their way to the factory in a more roundabout way. Everywhere they went, they turned heads. The light from the chem-lanterns glinted softly off Blitzcrank’s body and Ren’s unsullied clothes. Ren had also made it a goal to improve his smile and practiced by giving one to everyone who stared at him for even a moment. Sometimes he even embellished with a wave or friendly “hey.” Most returned the greeting but none returned it with the same enthusiasm that Ren gave it. He didn’t let it bother him though. He was being noticed. But after an hour of wandering and smiling, his face began to ache.

“I didn’t think it was possible to smile too much,” Ren bemoaned as he rubbed his sore jaw, “I feel like a need a break or it will get stuck like this. I hope something happens soon.”

“I find the probability of such a thing unlikely,” Blitzcrank said, “but I do agree with your second statement. We came here to aid the citizens of Zaun, but first we must locate a problem to address.”

“To aid the citizens of Zaun,” Ren repeated with a sigh.

“That’s an awfully nice thing for you to say, or something like it,” a voice said.

Ren’s head snapped up as he looked of the owner of that voice. It was familiar.

“Bonnie?” he asked.

“In the flesh,” Bonnie answered as she stepped out of a nearby alley.

“Bon-bon! It’s so good to see you!”

Ren’s face lit up as he ran towards his old friend with arms outstretched.

She was a young woman who couldn’t have been more than two years Ren’s senior. Her red hair was rich with curls and tumbled past her shoulders. Her eyes were the bright blue color of a calm ocean and her whole face was speckled with freckles. A small pale scar above lip was from a fishing hook accident as a kid, though if you were to ask her about it, she would spin a new and different tale of its origin each time. Around her neck she wore a pendant made of carved sea serpent tooth from her old home in Bilgewater.

Bonnie opened her arms and immediately stumbled back at the force of his embrace.

“Whoah, yup, yup,” she stuttered as she regained her balance, “you’re still a hugger, That’s nice Ren,” she gave him a few hard pats on the back, “alright, you can let go now. And no more Bon-bon. Nobody has called me that in a while. I’m trying to be an adult now.”

Ren stepped back. By the size of his grin you would never had believed that he had been complaining about his cheeks moments ago.

“Crystal. Is just ‘Bon’ alright though?”

“Yeah, Bon is fine.”

“Alright then Bon, what have you been up to?”

“Probably nothing as interesting as what you’ve been up to,” she responded, “word is that you’re one of Viktor’s goons now. I didn’t believe it, but damn Ren, you look the part.”

“Come on, you know I’m too charming to be a goon.”

“Har-har. But seriously, Ren, I heard about your brawl with Ekko. Next thing I know, you show up before me with that thing Viktor gave you on full display. Also, you’re wearing broody colors, you’ve got that weird thing on your eye, and just look at those,” she pointed to the gauntlets strapped at Ren’s side, “and to top it all off, you’re being followed by a golem. This is all a little suspicious.”

“Okay, first of all,” Ren answered, “this is a moggle and it’s cool, not weird. Secondly, I will be transparent. I am working with Viktor. I will not argue with that. I will however argue the use of the word goon.”

Bonnie swore under her breath.

“You’re not helping your case, Ren.”

“Bon, if I were dangerous, would I be here chatting pleasantly? Be honest for an old close friend.”

“No, damn it. I know you. Heck, I’ve even heard of this golem and I know he’s not here to pick a fight,” she walked over and looked up at Blitzcrank, “I’ve seen the pictures in the newspapers before, rescuing those fluffy things and stopping falling lifts. You’re Big-Crank, or something like it.”

“Greetings, citizen,” Blitzcrank said, “I am known as Blitzcrank. It appears as though you know Subject Renatus. This is a fortunate encounter.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Bonnie said, “and you know what, this is fortunate. Ren, you say you want to help people. If it’s true, I’ve got some work for you. Understand?”

“Crystal.”

“Great. There was a noxious spill a few days ago by my apartment. Damn puddle is still there.”

“Hazardous waste removal is my specialty,” Blitzcrank said with pride.

“Perfect,” Bonnie cheered, “now follow me, you goons. We’ve got work to do.”

Bonnie led the pair away from the main streets and into a residential corner near the factories. Here the apartments were so close together that you could shake hands with your neighbor in the building next to you by only reaching your hand out the window. These apartments were provided by the factory owner for the workers. However, after building the apartments, all involvement from Clan Blankenship stopped and maintenance became the responsibility of the tenants, resulting in the clean, original Pilover designs of the building being overtaken Zaun handiwork.

“Here’s home, or something like it,” Bonnie proudly stated, “two whole rooms all to myself. And, if I work hard and get that promotion, it could become three rooms. After that, I can see about getting my brother out of Hope House.”

“How is he?” Ren asked.

“Fine. I visit him often and miss him every day. I know Elodie is doing her best to take care of him, but I should be the one doing it. I was the one who dredged us out of Bilgewater after all. Ugh, I miss the ocean. Some days I wonder why I ever decided to come here, but then I remember; no krakens, no Gangplank, and no Harrowing. Also, the stench from the Slaughter Docks is far worse than any chem-spill. Speaking of which, let me show you the mess.”

She brought them around to the back of the apartments. It was an open courtyard with several tables and benches set up for the tenants to use. A tree had been planted in the center of the courtyard after the completion of the buildings, but it had quickly died in Zaun’s dirty, dark atmosphere. Despite the dead status, the tree appeared loved by the tenants. Its trunk was painted vibrant colors, bluebird charms hung from the branches, and a glass chem-lantern had been affixed to its top. The courtyard would have been a lovely place to spend the evening, if it were not for the large pool of noisome chemicals pooling in the corner.

“Yikes,” Ren grimaced as he stood at the pool’s edge.

“Careful, Ren,” Bonnie warned, “stuff burns like fire if it gets on your skin.”

To emphasize her point, she held out her hands. Blotches of raw pink and red dotted her hands.

“Double yikes,” Ren said as his expression softened.

Blitzcrank joined Ren at the edge of the pool and began to analyze the mess.

“Citizen Bonnie,” he said, “please share any additional information about the spill that you possess.”

“Yeah,” she said, “happened about a week ago. Members of the Plump Whumps gang-“

“That has to be the least intimidating gang name in the whole city,” Ren commented.

“I agree,” Bonnie continued, “but that’s not what’s important here. So they attack a cart transporting the chems. Lots of smashing, some property damage, casks fly everywhere, and bang! One of them comes from above and shatters here. We had managed to clear away some of the broken cask and figured we would get the rest after the chems go down the drain. Well, turns out that the stuff is thicker than it looks and the drain is clogged now. Think you two can fix this?”

“Without doubt,” Ren said without hesitation.

“Precisely,” Blitzcrank added.

Ren reached into the pack Viktor had put together for him and pulled out the absorption pellets.

“Alright, Doc,” he mumbled to himself, “these better work or I’m really going to look like an ass.”

He popped the container open and let out a small sigh of relief as he saw the pellets began to swell slightly from the moister in the air. With a toss, he scattered a handful across the pool. They began to expand instantly, swelling until they were well over ten times their original size. Soon, the pool was gone and in its place were soggy masses of absorbed chemicals. Only a small amount of the spill remained by the drain.

“There you go,” Ren comment as he grimaced at the sodden pellets, “just for you, Zaun’s nasties pillows.”

Blitzcrank was far more pleased with the sight.

“Excellent,” he cheered in his monotone voice, “this will expedite clean up. Subject Renatus, I wish to bring the waste to an appropriate disposal site. Do you feel confident in your ability to clear the drain?”

“Don’t worry about me Blitzcrank, I can handle this.”

“Affirmative,” the golem replied.

A fresh cloud of steam puffed from his pipes as he revved into action. Blitzcrank piled many of the swollen pellets into the broken cask and scooped up the remaining ones in his great arms. The precarious pile in which he carried the waste required such precise balance and control that Ren couldn’t imagine anyone other than an unflinching golem accomplishing the feat.

“I will return as soon as I have completed my task,” Blitzcrank stated before departing.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Bonnie turned to Ren.

“Subject?” she asked, “he keeps using that word for you. Suspicious Ren, very suspicious.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ren responded.

“I worry a little.”

“Well, let’s worry about the drain first. Can you please find a crowbar and we’ll pry that thig open.”

Bonnie was back in a minute with the tool. Mindful of the remaining spillage, they snuck the crowbar under the cover and forced the drain open. As the chemicals slid down the expanded opening, an odious wave of air wafted up from the pipe. Bonnie swore and Ren pulled his scarf over his nose.

“Ugh, what is that,” Bonnie asked, “I can’t see anything down there.”

“I’ll take a look,” Ren offered, “and then you will see just how cool the moggle is.”

He switched the device on.

“Light, light, light,” he grumbled, “which one of these lenses is it? Ah-hah!”

Now with the right lens configuration, Ren peered into the darkness.

“Triple yikes,” he groaned.

“What?”

“I see what’s clogging the pipes. It’s puffcaps.”

Bonnie swore again.

“Alright,” she sighed, “I’ll see if I can find masks and my Pa’s old harpoon. We’ll get them out.”

“Hold on, I think I’ve got this.”

“What?” she chuckled, “has your mad scientist given you expanding sump scraper gear as well? Bag looks a little small to fit a rake.”

“Viktor isn’t mad. Grumpy, yes, he absolutely can be, but most of the time he’s even tempered. However, his temper doesn’t matter right now but what does is the leg he gave me.”

Ren placed his augmentation against the pipe.

“With is,” he continued, “I think I can burn them away, spores and all. Just please step back. There is a chance I might go flying if this doesn’t work.”

Bonnie took two generous steps backwards. Ren took a deep breath and began to charge his augmentation. It whirred as pressure built within it. He braced himself and released the pent up power. Intense heat blasted forth from the augmentation, incinerating the puffcaps. Forcing the heat into the pipe, Ren held his ground and refused to let up the heat. Seconds felt like minutes as he felt eyes upon him. The pipe began to turn red hot and only then did Ren at last relax. Energy spent, he fell backwards and breathed deeply the smoky air.

Embers floated up from the pipes; the only remnants of the noxious mushrooms. Ren rubbed the area where flesh met joined with metal on his leg. Perhaps he had overdone it, but a good first impression was worth any ache or scolding from Viktor.

“That is a scary thing you have attached to you,” Bonnie said as she offered Ren a hand, “but I’ll be damned if it isn’t useful.”

She hoisted him up.

“Thank you, Ren.”

“Anytime,” he replied with a smile, “but before anything else, let me see your hands. I know the Doc gave me some medicine.”

He searched through his pack and pulled out every medical supply Viktor had provided him with and laid them out on one of the courtyard’s tables. He tore off a clean strip of gauze and completely drenched it in a burn salve. Bonnie tore of a second strip in anticipation of the first being too slippery to stay attached. She then held out her hands, allowing Ren to wrap them in the soggy bandages and, as she expected, wrap them again in the drier ones.

“Thanks again,” she said, looking over hand with approval, “but if you don’t mind me asking, do you think you could spare some more? I know there are others who could use some help. Can I grab them?”

“Of course, Bon. I am here to help.”

“To aid the citizens of Zaun?”

“To aid the citizens of Zaun.”

When Blitzcrank returned, he found Ren and Bonnie surrounded by at least a dozen of the other tenants, busy at work tending to their wounds. At the sight of the golem, a kid whose skin knees Ren was cleaning, wiggled out of the older boy’s reach and ran up to Blitzcrank.

“Woah,” the kid gasped, “look at the big bot!”

Blitzcrank waved to the young boy.

“Greetings small citizen.”

The kid’s smile widened, revealing a missing front tooth.

“The hazardous waste has been safely and properly disposed of,” Blitzcrank reported, “my task is complete. What is the status of your task?”

“The pipe has been cleared out,” Ren answered, “and on top of that, we’ve helped a lot of people with their little injuries. I think we might be done unless…”

He looked to Bonnie for her input. She shrugged.

“I think you two have taken care of the big problems,” she said, “but if you’re offering, I think I could find you a few more tasks, or something like it. What do you think?”

Hot steam puff, puff, puffed out of Blitzcrank like an excited heartbeat.

“Fired up and ready to serve.”

One hour of work became two, and two eventually became three. The tenants kept Ren and Blitzcrank busy with all manner of jobs. Ren used the moggle to aid in repairing ducts in darkness and Blitzcrank excelled at retrieving out-of-reach items. Strong arms helped with moving heavy objects and a fiery augmentation helped to burst open the stubborn basement door. At last though, they were done. Ren sat down on a bench and let out a long, exhausted sigh. Bonnie joined him and offered a mug of hot spiced tea, which he eagerly accepted.

“Thank you, Ren,” she said, “I know what you did may not feel like much, but it means a lot.”

“Still think I’m a goon?” he asked.

“Of course not! Look, I still don’t trust Viktor, but his gadgets are useful. Luckily I trust you. I know you will use them mostly responsibly.”

“So by extension, you trust Viktor’s gadgets, or something like it?”

“Something like it.”

They sat in amicable silence, content to sit back, drink their tea, and watch Blitzcrank play with the tenants’ children.

“Hey Bon, we should get going,” Ren said after a while, “I’ll let the Doc know you appreciate his designs at least.”

“Yeah, fine,” Bonnie mock grumbled as she took the mug back, “it was nice to see you, Ren. Stay safe.”

“Stay safe.”

Ren turned to Blitzcrank.

“I think it might be time to head home,” he said.

Blitzcrank helped the children from himself before giving a final wave “good-bye.”

“Farewell, tiny citizens,” he said, “remember to consume vegetables, cleanse your hands, and practice sump safety,” he turned to Ren, “I am ready to depart.”

The pair had spent such an extended with Bonnie that they had missed the lift back up. It would well over two hours before it returned to the station, so they instead decided to walk to a different one located by a foundry.

“The foundry workers know me,” Blitzcrank explained as they traveled, “they have been kind to me. They allow me to use their private lift when I require it.”

“Is it Brass Star Foundry?” Ren asked.

“Correct.”

“I think I remember reading about that. You saved several workers from a fire there.”

“Correct.”

“You’re so lucky, Blitzcrank. You’ve done so many heroic deeds, people like you, you’re just so cool.”

Blitzcrank reached out and gently pat Ren on the head. His finger was wider than the boy’s head.

“You will have your turn,” the golem comforted.

As Ren would quickly discover, his chance for flashy heroics would arrive sooner than later.


	38. Chapter 38

“So, Blitzcrank,” Ren casually asked, “the Doc made you, so that kinda makes him like your dad, right?”

“I am a golem,” Blitzcrank responded, “I have no biological parents. But you are correct. Viktor did create and program me and still aides in my upkeep at times. In that sense, he behaves much how a human father would towards their offspring. It is an unusual comparison but not an inappropriate one.”

“Crystal. So, hear me out. Doc also made my leg. Would that kinda sorta make you my-“

A sudden shout from ahead cut their conversation short.

“You can’t do this!” a woman shouted.

Ren didn’t wait another moment. He dashed forward towards the sound of the commotion. He turned the corner by Whitecap Factory and saw two groups of people standing before a bridge. A young woman wearing a berry-stained apron stood before one group, while a man, lanky as a scarecrow and covered with glowing piercings stood before the opposite group. The people behind him were a group of individuals far more deserving of the term ‘goon’ than Ren could ever be. Each gripped a weapon and leered down at the others with a threatening gaze.

Adrenaline pumped through Ren’s body, and he began equipping himself with his gauntlets as fast as his now trembling fingers would allow him.

“This is absurd,” the woman continued, “we’ve already paid for the month. Now you want more? This is daylight robbery!”

The people behind her nodded in agreement. Unlike those who obstructed them, this group was made of exhausted looking Zaunites; factory workers, lift conductors, and merchants, all wanting to get home. Only one among that group looked reluctant to support the young woman. He was an older gentleman who appeared to be a relative and he had to lean on the handles of his push cart jam stall for support.

“Dinah, please,” he pleaded

“No way, Uncle,” she said as she shook her head and stood defiantly before the thugs, “we’re not paying twice.”

“I’m sorry, Miss,” the spindly man feigned concern as he took a step forward, “but with the other bridge damaged, more people are coming this way and this poor bridge is taking more wear and tear. It costs more to upkeep it and keep everyone crossing safe.”

Dinah scoffed.

“It’s your gang’s fault that the other bridge is broken in the first place.”

“I don’t make the rules, Miss,” the man said with a shrug, “just enforce ‘em. You could always take things up with the boss if ya’ got a complaint though.”

He pointed back to the largest of the gang members gathered behind him. The man identified as the boss was a bulky man. But what was most intimidating wasn’t his size, but the massive augmentation attached to his arm. The design of it was clearly one worn by Baron Spindlaw’s men, who were infamous for using their oversized arms to smash through brick with ease and tear the limbs off of those who wronged their employer. But where the Baron’s sigil should have been, the image of a whump smoking a cigar was painted over. The boss raised his weaponized limb and flexed the fingers on it. Instantly, the crowd of workers grew silent. Even Dinah looked nervous.

“Ah,” continued the lackey as he smirked at the woman, “no words needed. So I suggest you all shut up and pay up.”

“Lowlifes,” she growled.

“Aww, now that was hurtful,” he joked in response, “but not as hurtful as this.”

He motioned to one of the other gang members behind him. With a malicious smirk, she stepped forward. Tubes attached to a tank on her back plunged into her chem-scarred arms. An oily colored liquid flowed through the tubes, suddenly empowering her with an abnormal speed. Before anyone could react, she had leapt to the side of the cart and swung a lead pipe at it. Its wooden wheel splintered under the force of the blow, causing the cart to lurch sideways, sending several jars of jams smashing to the ground.

“Uncle!” Dinah cried as she rushed to help keep the cart from completely tipping.

“So, I’m only asking this one more time,” the thug threatened, “pay.”

“Hey!” Ren shouted.

His voice echoed off the buildings, commanding the attention of both groups. He couldn’t wait anymore. He began to walking, trying to steady his breathing and finish strapping on the gauntlets. Blitzcrank followed a few paces behind. The golem was ready to provide aid if needed, but wanted to allow Ren an opportunity to deal with a situation himself.

“ _Keep you cool, Ren,_ ” he thought, “ _heroes keep their cool._ ”

Despite this though, he stumbled over his next few words.

“You! You leave them alone, you. Crystal?”

The thug blinked.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Ren said, “back off and let these people pass. Got it, please?”

The gang members looked between themselves in disbelief. Then they laughed.

“Is this a joke?” the pierced punk mocked.

“This is not a joke,” Ren answered.

“ _I am not a joke_ ,” he reassured himself, “ _stand firm._ ”

“This is your second warning,” Ren commanded, “let these people pass. You don’t want me to have to ask a third time.”

The look of disbelief deepened on both the workers and gangsters. The boss of the Plump Whumps peered down his nose at Ren. He pointed at the boy’s gauntlets and then nodded to his lackeys. The lanky thug nodded in understanding.

“Alright,” he smirked, “it’s your lucky day, kid. The boss says he’s willing to make a deal. Hand over your nice gauntlets and we will accept them as payment for everyone’s toll. You’re all shinny and spirited. Let’s keep you that way. We’d hate to break your toys, nose, and all that, so just hand em’ over like a good boy and we can all go on our merry way.”

The thought of Viktor’s creations being used to bully the innocent had Ren’s blood boiling.

“Absolutely not,” Ren stated, “these were made by one of Zaun’s greatest inventors and I know his skin would crawl if he saw his work being used by the likes of you. In other words, the only way you’ll get to experience these is by having them used on you. Final warning.”

“ _Damn it,_ ” Ren chastised himself, “ _that sounded a little villainous. Was that too much?_ ”

“Belligerent citizen,” Blitzcrank spoke up, “I advise that you heed Subject Renatus’s warning and vacate the premises.”

“And what the hell are you supposed to be,” the thug demanded, “some Piltie cop bot? Get outta here,” he whipped his attention back to Ren, who was still overthinking his choice of words, “and as for you-“

But before he could finish his threat, Blitzcrank’s massive hand clenched around him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Blitzcrank yanked the man back to him and into his waiting fist. The uppercut sent the thug flying. He crashed down on the pavement, knocked out cold. The thug’s knife, dislodged from its hiding placed, clattered into plain view. There was stunned silence and then, chaos.

“I’ll turn you to scrap!”

The woman with the pipe was first to move. She snarled as she turned towards Blitzcrank. Ren saw the oily substance begin to fill the tubes again and rushed to action. As she focused on the golem, Ren attacked from the side. His gauntlet slashed the tubes going into her arms, tearing them open and spilling their contents onto the pavement. The woman screamed and her weapon clattered to the ground. Her arm convulsed in a series of spasms as the strange liquid oozed from the tubes as she retreated.

“No more warnings,” Ren snapped, “get out!”

The boss looked between his remaining two goons and nodded to them.

“Alright, boy,” he said with a voice as harsh as rusted gears forced to move, “if you want to do this by force, be my guest, but know this, once we’re done beating you, I’m going to make it even. I’ll be taking your weapons and your leg.”

“You can try,” Ren postured, “I’ve beaten worse than you. You don’t scare me.”

“ _Though last time I fought someone like this, Ekko was with me, ready to rewind if things went wrong_ ” Ren thoughts panicked, “ _no redoes this time. But hey, you have the Great Steam Golem with you, that’s got to count for something. Ren you idiot, you better not screw this up._ ”

Blitzcrank moved forward to stand by Ren as the workers hurried away. The two other thugs spread out and circled around to either side of Ren and Blitzcrank. The face of one was completely obscured by a bulky gasmask, though his heavy wheezing could still be heard from underneath it. Just like the thug with the tubes, he wielded a lead pipe. The other wore dark makeup around her eyes that resembled the markings on a whump and clutched a staff entwined with wires.

At the same time, they charged in from either side. Ren chambered his leg, letting his augmentation absorb the brunt of the blow from his assailant. Both he and the gas mask man stumbled back from the clash of metal on metal. Ren was the first to recover.

“ _His blows aren’t nearly as strong as Ekko’s_ ,” Ren thought as confidence built, “ _I’ve got this._ ”

With a squeeze of the levers, Ren charged his gauntlets and began his counterattack. He swung at the man’s arms. The bladed gears tore into the thick fabric of the thug’s trench coat, but the bulky apparel had done its job, and his skin received little more than a surface wound. However, the electric shock that came with the strike had a much greater effect.

A raspy growl came from beneath the mask as the man recoiled in pain. Ren thought he had an opening and moved to follow up with another strike on the already injured limb. The masked man anticipated this though. He pivoted out of the way and raised his arm, pulling back the sleeve and revealing a set of canisters strapped to them. He pulled a cord and a sickly looking gas spewed forth. Ren didn’t know what this gas was and he didn’t want to find out.

“Wanna trade?” he asked Blitzcrank as he backed off from his opponent.

“When an opportunity presents itself, I will accept,” the golem responded.

Blitzcrank had his own hands full with the woman facing him. She was quick on her feet, and now that the surprise of how far his arms could extend was spent, she knew what to watch out for. Twice, he had gone to grab her and twice she nimbly jumped away before striking back. When Blitzcrank missed, his arm was vulnerable for a brief moment, during which she would strike it with her staff. The wires around it all connected back to a chem-powered battery pack, and they crackled with electricity as they struck the golem. Though his metal did not dent, Blitzcrank did not enjoy the tingling sensation that skittered through his circuits with each strike. It was becoming difficult for him to sense his fingers.

“Let’s not wait,” Ren called out, “we’ll make our own opportunity.”

As the masked man made another charge at Ren, the boy crossed the blades on his gauntlets and switched them on. Sparks showered from the weapons, driving the man back. Ren hastily pivoted to move to Blitzcrank’s position, but the boss had other plans. Joining the fray, the boss charged in, swinging at Ren with his fearsome augmentation. Blitzcrank was faster though.

He caught the augmentation, shielding Ren with his outstretched hand. The air around Blitzcrank appeared to warp for a few seconds. A blue aura radiated from his frame, stopping the blow before it could connect. The boss stared in disbelief for a moment, but that brief second was all Blitzcrank needed. He closed his fist around the augmentation and tossed the man aside. The boss crashed into the side of the factory, smashing the window he had collided with.

Ren leapt at the opening. He dashed past Blitzcrank, ready to engage the woman with the staff. She swung downwards in an attempt to keep up her assault on the golem’s arms. Ren was the one who received the blow though. He moved between them and blocked the strike with his augmentation. The two staggered back. Ren felt his hairs stand on end as the electricity tingled through his augmentation and pricked at the nerves joining it to his flesh. His skin around the connection itched as though it was crawling with ants.

Ren pushed the sensation from his mind as he focused on his new opponent. The wires wrapped around her weapon were similar, if not more crude, to the ones on Viktor’s staff. Ren smirked. He remembered how easily his old knuckledusters had cut through Viktor’s wires. Now with better weapons, he knew that severing the power to her staff would be even easier.

He charged in and jabbed with his left. She blocked the attack with ease, just as Ren anticipated he would. He followed through with a right hook aimed at the wires. The gangster moved to counterattack, kicking out with her steel plated boots to keep him at a distance. Ren had to pivot to avoid her attack, causing his blow to miss and only graze the wires. This strike was not without effect though, and the more powerful hextech battery overloaded the weaker chem-battery circuit, disrupting it. Electricity arced between the wires, even snapping one with a loud popping noise.

Both jumped back in surprise. Catching her breath, the woman looked down at her damaged weapon and felt anger well within her. With renewed fury, she continued her assault, thrusting out rapidly. With the aid of his augmentation, Ren leapt back out of range. He took a breath. She was fast, and Ren knew that he was going to have to slow her down if he were to disarm her. He began to tap his foot as an idea came to mind.

“ _Ren, what did I say about being an idiot_ ,” he chastised himself, “ _that’s a terrible idea. No redoes. Are you sure you want to do this?_ ”

His opponent didn’t give the opportunity to rethink his plan. She charged in and Ren steeled himself for what he was about to do. He raised his arms up to guard, but deliberately left his right side exposed for a kick. She took the bait and delivered a roundhouse kick right into Ren’s side. Knowing the blow was coming, Ren exhaled on impact so that the air couldn’t be forcibly knocked from him. Ren retained his balance, but the pain still blossomed under her boot, and he knew he was going to bruise badly for this. He fought through the pain, and wrapped his right arm around her leg, pinning her to him.

“Gottcha’,” he smirked, “and now sorry. Kinda.”

Ren activated his right gauntlet and let the charged tips of his weapon contact the metal on her boot. She cried out in pain as the current forced her muscles to contract against each other. With desperation, she made a wild swing at Ren’s head with the staff. He turned inward, letting his left pauldron absorb the blow. Though the force of the strike was weak, the jolt it sent through the metal plating caused Ren’s shoulder to seize up. With a groan, he commanded his left hand to move and shove against her trapped thigh. The force threw her off balance and he released her leg as she tumbled to the ground. The staff fell from her grip and began to roll away.

Determined not to let this opening go to waste, Ren lunged for the weapon. He snatched it up and brought his blades to the wires without hesitation. A quick twist of his wrist and the wires were severed. Ren didn’t allow himself a moment to bask in victory and let his guard down, and so he turned back to the thug. She was moving again, despite the pain in her leg, and was trying to get back on her feet. With a sigh, Ren went back and swept her legs out from under her with a swift, sweeping kick.

“Stay down, please,” Ren asked, “I’d rather not have to break any bones.”

“I refuse to lose to some brat,” she growled back.

Again, she attempted to rise. Ren grit his teeth and began to charge his leg for one final decisive kick. But he never needed to. From out of view, Dinah rushed in and punched the thug square in the cheek. Ren stared in confusion for a moment.

“Well,” jam seller shot back to Ren, “go help your big friend. I’ll finish up here.”

“Oh, yeah. Crystal,” Ren responded.

He hastily took of his pouch and tossed it at her before turning for Blitzcrank.

“There should be some rope or something in there. Thanks.”

As Ren had been fighting the woman with the staff, Blitzcrank had his own hands full. The fight with the masked man was the easy part of Blitzcrank’s brawl. The golem had waded through the mysterious gas, unbothered by it. He had been designed to clean hazardous material, and this gas was far weaker than many of the substances he had handled before.

The masked man, alarmed by the unrelenting approach of his enemy, reached into the deep pockets of his trench coat and pulled out a fistful of small glass vials. He threw them at Blitzcrank. The glass shattered against the golem’s body, covering him in the various chemicals. They slid off the metal, sizzling as they hit the pavement. However, there was no effect on the Blitzcrank. Desperate, he pulled out his last resort, a canister of chem-lamp oil. He spilled it before himself, struck a match, and ignited it.

The oil ignited in a brilliant flash. Blitzcrank paused for a moment as he felt the flames lick up his legs. There was no pain; one of the perks of a robotic body. However, he couldn’t let these flames spread without control. The flames would eventually begin to interfere with his functions. Drawing on his stored power, Blitzcrank, released a large plume of steam. The water doused the flames on his form and diminished, but not completely extinguishing the oil fire around him.

“Belligerent citizen,” Blitzcrank said, “you have caused unnecessary damage to the city and have endangered other civilians. I will now put an end to your destructiveness.”

And end the fight Blitzcrank did. His hand launched out and apprehended the masked man. He gave the human a calculated squeeze; enough to be uncomfortable and for the man to know he was powerless to escape, but not so much that he crushed the oh so fragile bones.

“Surrender. You have been – “

_CRASH!_

A large chunk of a machine slammed into Blitzcrank, staggering him. From the factory, the gang’s boss was pulling himself back out through the window. Gripped in his augmentation was the other half of the machine he had torn from the factory. Before Blitzcrank could recover, he lobbed the metal at the golem. This time, Blitzcrank saw it coming though, and reached out with his other hand to catch it. However, injuring the golem was never the true attention of the attack. Now that Blitzcrank’s hands were full, the boss closed the distance between them in seconds. The machinery inside the augmentation whirled as he pulled back the massive limb and punched Blitzcrank right in the chest. Backwards Blitzcrank fell.

In a moment, the boss was standing on Blitzcrank’s chest. Blitzcrank swung the arm holding the metal in an attempt to knock his aggressor off. Unfortunately for the golem, he arms were not ideally designed for this type of motion. His arms were designed to extend and retract in a predominately linear fashion. Abduction and adduction of his arms was possible, but it was never as strong. 

The boss knocked aside Blitzcrank’s arm aside without much difficulty. Capitalizing on the opening, he then followed up with another punch to the golem’s chest. Blitzcrank searched himself for energy, but his core still hadn’t recharged enough to generate another barrier. He briefly considered opening his chest and exposing his core, but the resulting outpouring of electricity would likely electrocute very people he and Ren were trying to protect. Metal groaned as the plating on Blitzcrank dented.

“Next one goes for your head,” the boss sneered as he raised his augmentation high above his head.

“And this one goes for yours,” Ren screamed as he charged in.

Wielding the staff, Ren swung it with all his might at the head of the boss. He let the tips of his gauntlets touch the metal of the staff, coating the whole thing in an electric charge. At the sound, the thug turned and only had a moment to react and block Ren’s attack his augmentation.

“I’ve got this Blitz,” Ren said, “take care of yourself and help the nice jelly lady catch the others.”

His words were equally to reassure himself as they were Blitzcrank.

“Good,” the boss chuckled as he leered down at Ren, “I was worried I wouldn’t get to snap your leg off myself.”

“You aren’t the first person to threaten this leg,” Ren shot back, “and the last guy who tried to destroy it was a way better fighter than you. And look, I’m still here. What chance do you think you’ve got?”

“A damn good one.”

Ren was immediately alarmed by how fast the man was for his size. He had to jump back as the boss swung his augmentation at him. The boss pressed his assault, forcing Ren backwards to where the oil fire still burned. Ren saw the glow of the flames in the corner of his eyes and made a quick decision. Though he hated sacrificing the reach it offered, Ren rolled the staff at the feet of the larger man.

His plan worked, and Ren breathed a quick sigh of relief as he watched the boss trip over the staff. The man caught himself on his oversized arm, which kept him from completely toppling to the pavement, but he was still vulnerable as he tried to regain balance. Ren was ready to exploit this opening.

One quick jab and another fast hook, both charged, connected with the boss, striking him in both the chest and arm. The man roared in pain and lashed out with his arm. His ability to move through the pain caught Ren off guard and the boy was struck in gut by an uppercut. Ren coughed as he stumbled back. He swallowed his bile.

“ _Thank the Gray that that wasn’t his augmented arm,_ ” he groaned internally, “ _Damn it. He’s got to be hyped up on something. All right, so it’s going to be taking out that augmentation or nothing. Gotta find the weak spot. All right moggle, time to shine. Just need a moment to set you up.”_

As the boss finished righting himself, Ren leapt through the broken window and into the factory. He looked around the empty factory for a place to hide. He only needed to buy a few minutes, just enough time to figure out which configuration of lenses reveal electrical currents. Ducking behind a palate of oil drums, he began to switch through the moggle’s lenses at a frantic pace. Behind him, there was a great cracking sound. The brick wall by the window had been crumbled and now the footsteps of the boss could be heard stepping over the rubble and shattered glass.

“Where are you?” he challenged, “you rotten little coward! You have one minute to show yourself before I go back out there and start taking your robot apart. And you know what, just for good measure, I’ll take that girl apart too. Come out, little hero! Don’t you want to be their champion?”

“ _Desperately,_ ” Ren thought to himself, “ _damn it, damn it, damn it. I’m going to have make a cheat sheet for this if I get out. No, not if. When. When damn it._ ”

The boy could feel his fingers trembling as he ran them along the gears on the moggle. He stared at the back of his hand, hoping that one combination would make the wiring on his gauntlet glow faintly. With each second that passed, he felt his hear rise higher and higher in his throat. The screech of each piece of the factory that snapped under the boss’s rampage seemed to echo from all around. And then, a light!

“ _Lady Science be praised!_ ”

“I’m right here!” Ren shouted.

Ren peaked over the edge of his hiding place, and saw the boss tearing up a conveyer belt, looking for him under it. The debris he created had formed a corner that would be difficult to maneuver out of. This was as good a shot as Ren could have hoped for.

He charged his augmentation and as he stood, he kicked the barrel that had been his hiding place at his enemy. The projectile flew through the air and collided with the boss’s augmentation. The man snarled and turned to Ren. As Ren stared down the larger man, he began to see a path to victory. The lines of the wires were revealed by the moggle and appeared to Ren’s eye as glowing lines below the augmentation. The lines glowed brightest where the augmentation met the flesh, the joints, and along the inside of the limb. With a target selected, Ren charged.

He cleared the distance between them in seconds. The boss raised his arm and brought it smashing straight downwards. Ren pivoted, narrowly dodging the blow. He followed up with an attack of his own, making a stab at the wires near the elbow. Electricity sparked over the surface of the augmentation. The effect was dazzling under the moggle’s enhanced vision. Unfortunately for Ren, he hadn’t anticipated this, and the sudden flash threw off his aim and his claws narrowly missed the vital wires.

The boss was quick to follow up on his first attack, and he swung his massive limb outwards. Ren went to dodge, but just as the debris made it impossible for the boss to dodge the barrel, so to was Ren blocked in. He made to jump over the destroyed belt, but as he was clearing it, the boss’s augmentation slammed into him. Ren was knocked to the ground. Before he could get back on his feet, he felt the massive fingers of the augmentation clenched around his hip. The boss held the boy before him and showed a menacing grin.

“I’m going to squeeze those brave words from your lungs, boy,” he growled.

Ren gasped in pain as the machinery began crush him. Horrid memories of twisted limbs and grinding metal flashed through his mind. The area around his augmentation throbbed wildly as his mind burned his nerves with the phantom memory of his fall. Ren screamed in a panic. His vision blurred and all he could see was the glow of the wires. In a final attempt, he drove the blades of both his gauntlets into the wrist of the augmentation that held him. There was a crackling noise and the inside of the building was illuminated by a flashing light. And suddenly, the pressure was gone. The fingers of the augmentation went limp and Ren was dropped.

The boss blinked in disbelief at his augmentation refused to respond to his will. Ren didn’t wait, he ran, bolting out of the factory and back to where his agility could be fully utilized. From behind him, he could hear the thug howl with rage and give chase. Once more in the open, Ren turned to face his enemy once more. This time though, the boss was the first one to move.

He charged at Ren, swinging in a blind rage. His moves were sloppier and Ren was able to evade with ease. He ducked under a high swing and delivered a punch to the thug’s inner thigh. Before his enemy could retaliate, he then rolled behind him and struck again at the back of the knee. The boss fell upon that knee, giving Ren a clear shot at his shoulder. The boy let his blades tearing into the boundary between machine and flesh. The reaction form the augmentation was instantaneous. The sickly mixture of lubricants and blood began to drip from the wound and the damaged wires began to crackle angrily. Still this wasn’t enough to stop the boss. Fury filled him with a second wind; even though his augmentation hung mostly limp.

“Just give up already,” Ren ordered between exhausted breaths.

“Not until you lay broken,” his enemy growled in a barely intelligible voice.

The fingers of the augmentation dragged across the pavement as the thug turned to face Ren. His expression was beyond deranged. Considering his own fatigue, Ren didn’t expect his opponent to be capable of one last burst of speed. He was wrong. If the man felt any pain, he didn’t show it. His augmentation swung wildly, its owner pushing himself onward despite the blood that continued to trickle from his wounds. The prolonged brawl had begun to wear on Ren and he was slowing down. Reflexively, he jumped, not to either side, but directly up. He charged his augmentation, building pressure to launch himself backwards. Just as the monstrous arm was about to connect with his leg, Ren released the pressure and flew back several feet.

He landed with a thud on the ground. He gasped, trying to return the air to his lungs. He could feel heat. Wearily, he opened his eyes and noticed that he had landed mere inches away from the oil fire. Across from him, Ren watched as the thug struggled to bring himself to his feet. The heat of the nearby fire grew uncomfortable. His vision was growing blurry, but he could still make out the expressions on the faces of the onlookers: fear and concern. The heat was becoming painful. Ren forced himself to his hands and knees. The heat was unbearable. He had to move.

“ _Get up,_ ” Ren repeated in his mind, “ _get up, get up, get up. One more shot. One more kick. Come on you damn idiot champion. GET. UP._ ”

Despite the protest of every muscle in his body, Ren rose. His augmentation was the only part of his body that wasn’t in pain. Ren focused on it and the cool, numbness of the machinery. His breathing steadied, his eyes locked on his target, and his mind pushed all thoughts of pain, failure, and panic from it. He focused on the steel. Ren dragged his augmentation through the fire. The oil clung to the limb. He could feel the heat at his joint, but he didn’t care. His augmentation didn’t feel a thing. He focused on charging his augmentation longer than ever before.

Suddenly, he let out a battle cry.

“Inferior augmentation,” he shouted, “yours will break before mine!”

He released the overwhelming pressure and went flying with a kick. The heat that spewed from his augmentation fueled the flames that already wrapped around the limb, wreathing his foot with a brilliant blaze.

“Neo-Mega-Leg: Flame Strike!”

The fiery kick crashed into the shoulder of the boss. The sound of the collision filled the area. There was the clang of metal on metal, the groan of it bending, a sharp snap of wires, and an applause of sparks. But the loudest sound was the resounded bang, the arm made as it fell, torn asunder, to the ground. The thud of the thug falling next was silent by comparison.

Ren’s chest heaved and his eyes watered, but the wave of relief that washed over him gave him the strength for just a few more words.

“Behold the glorious work of Zaun’s greatest genius! This is the strength of Viktor and his N-12 project! Change is coming!”

He then collapsed backwards, unconscious and victorious.


	39. Chapter 39

There was a banging knock at the factory’s door.

“Please open the door, Viktor,” Blitzcrank said, “I have returned with Subject Renatus. He requires medical attention.”

Before Blitzcrank had even finished speaking, the garage door of the factory was clanking open. Viktor was there, waiting. Blitzcrank ducked inside. He was cradling Ren in his arms and he turned the boy to look at Viktor. Ren gave a weak thumbs-up.

“Hey, Doc,” he said groggily, “we did it. We helped the people.”

“We will discuss your accomplishments later,” Viktor replied, “your health comes first. Is anything broken? Can you walk? Has your augmentation been damaged again?”

“I don’t think so. I think so. And I’m pretty sure it isn’t.” Ren answered, “Blitz, can you put me down, please? We’ll figure out right now if I can walk.”

Slowly, the golem righted Ren and helped him get his feet on the ground. He looked stable until Blitzcrank completely let go of him. Immediately, Ren felt all his muscles ache in unison as he knees buckled. He felt Blitzcrank’s hands wrap protectively around his waist to keep him from falling over.

“It’s okay,” Ren reassured, “just tired. I can walk. Thanks though.”

Viktor went over and pulled Ren upright. He helped the boy get his arm around his shoulders to steady himself.

“If you want to walk,” Viktor scolded, “you may, but not without assistance. I refuse to have my patient fall due to stubbornness. We are going to the workshop. If you become unable to walk, inform Blitzcrank and he will carry you the remaining way.”

“I can do that.”

Steadily, they all made their way to the workshop. Viktor helped Ren up onto the operating table and with the removal of his armor. Bruises, ugly and discolored, splotched across Ren’s skin. The largest one, the size of Ren’s hand, bloomed where he had been kicked. As Viktor continued his examination, Ren reclined on the table, letting out a long groan as he did. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he could feel each ache and pain in high definition. Outside the room, Blitzcrank waited patiently.

“So Doc, is anything broken?”

“Not that I can tell,” Viktor answered, “which is incredibly fortuitous considering the extensive bruising you have sustained.”

“Excellent, so I can get back to work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we’re on a roll. I wouldn’t believe it myself if I weren’t actively feeling it, but we did more than just fight off some petty criminals. We took down a gang leader. Heh, can you believe it? Ouch. Maybe I bit off more than I could chew, but I don’t care. I’m going back tomorrow to find the rest of ‘em and clean that gang out for good.”

“I refuse to allow you to leave with your body in this condition. I would be irresponsible of me to do so. You need to recover.”

“So day after tomorrow, then?”

“That depends on both your recovery and Blitzcrank’s repairs.”

Ren sighed.

“Now,” Viktor continued, “please explain in detail, but without excessive exaggeration, what exactly happened to you two.”

Ren smiled.

“Crystal. I can do that but I promise it will be a better story if I can exaggerate a bit.”

“I will settle for a duller but more accurate retelling.”

Ren proceeded to recount his and Blitzcrank’s adventure into the Sump, from the cleaning at the apartments to the brawl at the bridge. Viktor listened intently as he tended to Ren’s injuries. If something seemed too farfetched, he would ask Blitzcrank for clarity. Much to Viktor’s surprise though, Blitzcrank was able to confirm almost everything Ren described, albeit with less colorful language. It made him wish he could have seen Ren’s movements in person, and he resolved that as soon as the boy was able to, he would ask him to reenact certain parts of his story.

Viktor’s mind was swimming with possible upgrades he could make to the augmentation, but he forced himself to focus on healing his subject first. As Ren finished his story, Viktor was finishing with cleaning Ren’s knuckles, which had split in several places.

“Thanks, Doc,” Ren said as he looked over his hands.

“You are welcome,” Viktor replied as he packed up his medications, “but the next time you get into a brawl, I ask that you avoid causing property damage. That factory was owned by a wealthy Piltover family and their involvement could complicate things for us.”

“I like to think of it more as creative property rearrangement.”

Viktor turned and looked back Ren, who didn’t need to see his face to know he was being glared at from under the mask.

“In my defense,” Ren huffed, “it was that thug who actually tore up the place. I was performing property damage mitigation.”

“The Piltover nobles will not care for such distinction,” Viktor said, “they will only see two people from Zaun destroying their property.”

“All right, I’ll try to avoid it in the future.”

“Please do so. I will not hesitate to bring your 'hero' experiment to an end if Piltover becomes too heavily involved in this early stage. The cost to benefit prospect skews heavily out of our favor if Piltover sends one of their enforcing 'heroes' to hunt you or destroy another one of my labs.”

“They wouldn’t do that, would they? Wait, another? This has happened before?”

“Years ago,” Viktor answered, “but I will not discuss it more tonight. My word on this is final.”

“I understand.”

There were a few minutes of silence as Viktor searched for the tools he would need to repair Blitzcrank. Ren swung his legs over the side of the table and shuddered as a new wave of pain washed over him. He placed his hand over his bruised side. Viktor was right; it was incredibly lucky that he hadn’t been severely injured during that fight. But how long would that luck last?

“Hey, Doc,” Ren spoke up.

“Yes,” Viktor responded without turning from tool rack.

“I’ve been thinking, if I’m going to keep doing this, I’m going to need to get stronger. I know that there’s the obvious path with exercise and strength training, which I do plan to do, but that can only carry me so far.”

Viktor turned and looked at Ren. His subject now had his undivided attention.

“So,” Ren continued, “if possible, maybe, is there a way you could augment me further, just a little?”

“Do you wish for your other leg to be augmented?” Viktor asked bluntly.

“Hey, that’s a lot. I did say ‘just a little,’ right? Maybe we could start with something small and exclusively under the skin. Oh, and anything to my face is right out, especially the eyes. The thought of needles near them, ugh, still makes me queasy.”

“Subdermal augmentation only. I can accommodate that request. Do you have an idea as to what else you want augmented?”

“I don’t know. I said I was thinking about it, but not thinking too much. You’re the doctor, not me. I trust that you know what’s best for me. But please, again, keep it small. I’m still very much attached my arms and other leg. But hey, if anything catastrophic should happen to my other limbs, you get full say over what happens to them. How’s that sound?”

Viktor paused and thought for a moment.

“That sounds exciting.”

“Ooh, ‘exciting’,” Ren smiled, “that’s a very energetic word for you to use. I thought you would say something like ‘agreeable’ or ‘acceptable’ or something else dull like that.”

“This is an exciting moment, N-12. You are beginning to embrace my vision of progress.”

“Well, now that you’re in a good mood, can I ask about something else exciting? Another type of upgrade?”

“What is it?”

“I want to paint flames on my augmentation.”

Viktor sighed deeply.

“Is there any reason beyond your vanity that this should be done,” he asked. 

“I know how you’re looking at me under that mask,” Ren said, “please don’t and just hear me out. I have wanted this so badly. So so badly. And I defeated the boss with a flaming kick. It’s meant to be, Doc. Please, I think I have earned a little fun. Besides, look at it. It’s scorched and needs a cleaning anyways. Please?”

“I can confirm,” Blitzcrank chimed in, “the lead aggressor was defeated when Subject Renatus kicked off his augmentation as his leg was coated with burning oil. The sight appeared to resonate with the spectating civilians. Painting Subject Renatus’s augmentation with a flame motif could invoke that awe and become a foundation symbol of his reputation moving forward.”

“I will concede,” Viktor said begrudgingly, “and defer to Blitzcrank’s expertise as a positive symbol for the people. However, I will be selecting the paint and assisting you with its application. I will not allow my work to be marred by an unprofessional finish.”

“Yes! Thank you, Doc! Trust me, this will all pay off for us.”

“I am still not convinced, but since you trust me with augmenting you, I will trust you with your own reputation.”

“Our reputation.”

“Our reputation.”


	40. Chapter 40

The evening was quiet. Ren had spent most of the day sleeping. It had been a week since Blitzcrank had carried the boy home from their first outing into Zaun. Despite the beating had had taken, Ren had refused to rest and recover for more than a day. He had insisted that his work had only begun and his eagerness to pursue his goal was so great that Viktor knew the only way to keep from going out again would have been to physically tie him down. And so Viktor let him go, so long as Blitzcrank went with him.

After several days of returning bruised and filthy, Ren had declared his mission accomplished and that was ready to finally rest. For this, Viktor was grateful. Ren was recovering and promised to write a detailed report on how his creations performed in combat. Furthermore, with the boy asleep, Viktor had been able to spend the entire day working without interruption.

It had been an incredibly productive day. And now with his work finally completed, Viktor sat down at his desk to open the package that had been left for him at the factory’s door. A small item was wrapped in newspaper and twine. Tucked into the twine was an envelope with Viktor’s name written in a neat script. Recognizing the hand, Viktor opened the bundle and read the letter.

_Viktor,_

_I know you don’t get the paper way out where you are but I thought you would enjoy reading this. You must be so proud of the boy. Good luck with him._

_-M_

Viktor looked down at the present Moyna had left him. It was a newspaper article, carefully clipped out with the accompanying photo preserved in a small picture frame. In the image was Blitzcrank with Ren sitting triumphantly on his shoulder. The boy had a ridiculous smile on his face, despite also clearly having a black eye. In his raised hand, he held a torn banner of a whump smoking a cigar.

Although not the front page story, that honor had been reserved to announce the marriage of two Piltover nobles, the article the photo was taken from was given half a page to tell its story. The headline read:

**A Good Whumping:**

**Young Man and Golem Topple Plump Whump Gang, Credit Estranged Scientist for Victory**

Viktor gave a dry chuckle at the word “estranged,” before briefly skimming the story. Most of it was a dramatic retelling of Ren and Blitzcrank’s exploits over the past few days. It told that how, after the brawl by the bridge and the arrest of the Plump Whumps’s boss, the two of them scoured the district looking for the gang’s base and how, after locating it, they routed the remaining gang members from their hold. Ultimately, this had led to the arrests of nearly a dozen other gang members and the total dismantling of their organization.

Most importantly, the article quoted Ren singing the praises of Viktor and how his inventions saved his life and empowered him to help others. There they were. The promised positive image Ren had guaranteed he would promote. Beyond that though, the article’s tone to Viktor quickly changed. It portrayed him as an ominous figure as it summarized his reputation in Zaun, his work, his education, and several unfavorable rumors about him. The silver lining though came in the form of the article’s final line.

_“But who can say what his motives are but him? All we do know is that the people here can sleep more soundly thanks to this mysterious Project N.”_

Viktor read and reread the final line of the article. He didn’t care what the people thought of him, so why did these words stir something inside him? I didn’t take much pondering to come to the answer. It was pride, not just in his work, but in the recognition of his work. It was a dangerous feeling. Viktor knew this and knew that this rising feeling would need to be suppressed, but as he looked at the photo of Ren and Blitzcrank, he conceded to allow himself to indulge in the emotion for just the evening.

Tomorrow though, it would be back to business as usual. He would not let this pride allow him to become complacent in his quest for betterment. With the information Ren provided about his brawls, Viktor had many ideas on how to improve on the design of both the augmentation and other gadgets he had given the boy. Beyond that, Ren had also consented to other potential augmentations. Even if they were all restricted to be subdermal, Viktor was eager to begin devising designs to improve his subject. Bones, muscles, tendons, all could be improved upon. Lastly, and least in his opinion, he had promised to aid Ren in personalizing the augmentation with decorative flames. It was a completely frivolous plan, but considering how beneficial Ren had been for his research, he could at least humor him as a “thank you.”

Viktor pulled out the file he had for Project N and added the newspaper article to it. He looked through the file and gathered all the old blueprints for the limb and spread them out before himself. Although he didn’t plan on beginning the upgrades tonight, he wanted everything set up and ready for tomorrow morning. He grabbed a fresh piece of blueprint paper, but paused before titling it. The design should be labeled “N-13,” but referring to Ren as N-13 seemed off to him. Viktor sighed. His attempts to not grow attached to his patient were not as successful as he hoped, but he had also not anticipated Ren ever growing attached to him in return. After a brief pause, Viktor wrote at the top of the page, “N-12 V.2”

Deciding that there was little else that could be accomplished in a meaningful way that night, Viktor decided sleep would be the most efficient use of his time. He removed his mask and gave it its evening cleaning before seeing to his own personal grooming. The last thing he did before retiring to bed was take the photo and place it on the shelf next to the only other one he owned, his younger self with Blitzcrank. It only made sense that his two greatest sources of pride be side by side.


	41. Chapter 41

“Viktor, help!”

Viktor stopped what he was doing. That was Ren’s voice. And what’s more Ren was using his name, not “Doc.” That was absolutely not a good sign. Without further delay, Viktor dropped what he was doing and rushed towards Ren’s voice.

Ren was standing in the entry of the factory. A woman, bloody and unconscious, was at his side. He had wrapped her arm around his shoulder to support her and used his other arm to hold her waist upright. Her other arm was the source of the blood. From the elbow down, her flesh was in tatters. Ren had made an emergency tourniquet by tearing the sleeve of his shirt to stop the bleeding to the best of his ability.

“Viktor!” Ren cried out.

Viktor was at Ren’s side in a moment.

“What happened?” the scientist demanded.

“There was an accident,” Ren stammered, “I was walking through the Factorywood and I heard a scream. I ran over. Ran as fast I could. They said her clothing got stuck in the machine. The blades tore her up. Her, her arm, Doc. It looks like my leg did. Please you got to help her.”

“You do not even need to ask. Quickly, bring her to the operating table.”

Viktor went to the woman’s other side and helped Ren carry her to the workshop. They eased her onto the operating table.

“Strap her onto the table,” Viktor ordered, “I do not want her falling off.”

Ren took a deep breath and steadied himself. He moved her limbs with as much care as he could before strapping them firmly to the table.

“It’s okay,” he whispered as much to the woman as to himself, “it’s all going to be okay. Viktor’s the best doctor you could ask for.”

“If you are going to stand there and panic,” Viktor said as he pushed over a cart loaded with medical instruments, “I am going to request that you leave.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me?”

“I was able to successfully operate on you without aid. You do not need to worry, I can help her,” he put a hand on Ren’s shoulder and softened his tone, “if I do need assistance, I will call you. Does that ease your nerves?”

“Plenty. I’ll, I’ll just wait outside then,” Ren agreed.

With the click of the door shutting, Viktor was left alone with the woman. He took a deep breath and a wave of calmness washed over him. This was his element.

“ _I will do more than save her,_ ” Viktor thought, “ _I will gift her a new hand._ ”

Viktor filled two synergies with liquid, one with an anesthetic and the other with a hemostatic drug to help control the bleeding. He injected her, his practiced hands finding her veins with little effort. He monitored her breathing intently. Once he was sure that the drugs had taken effect, Viktor began his work. He started by replacing Ren’s makeshift tourniquet with one of his own. Then, he proceeded to assess the trauma her arm had sustained and clean the area around it.

“ _Wound jagged. No clean cuts. Would be nearly impossible to stich back together without grafts. Ulna and radius both broken. Flexor completely severed. Extensor severely damaged. Amputation is best course of action._ ”

Grabbing his sharpest scalpel, Viktor began to shape the shredded pieces of skin into neat flaps that would shape her stump and provide a base for her augmentation’s socket. As always, he took care to ensure that none of the scars would line up with where her bones would rest and that the pressure from the socket would be evenly distributed.

Satisfied with her skin, Viktor moved on. Her remaining soft tissue, muscles, nerves and blood vessels were all ligated before being severed. The laser on his third arm helped to instantly cauterize the blood vessels, allowing Viktor more time to focus on shaping her bones. With an unwavering hand, he grinded away at the jagged edges until they were smooth enough to not agitate the muscle that was to be reattached to them. Next it was time for myodesis. He drilled holes in her bone and began to suture the distal tendon into these holes. Steadily, a cylindrical stump was beginning to take shape.

Minutes trickled into hours. Viktor worked on, his pace unchanged. The machinery in him was untiring. The woman’s injury by this point had been transformed into a clean stump with a socket for the augmentation already in place. Unlike with Ren, who needed to learn to walk again, Viktor decided that this patient would not need to practice with a prosthetic before being augmented. Furthermore, what he planned to attach to her was not an experimental limb, but instead a tried and tested design.

Viktor unlocked a cabinet by his workbench. Inside was a collection of augmentations. They were an assortment of older models, works in progress, or simple designs to serve as a starting point. It was one of the latter that he selected for his patient. Although the design of this augmentation was simple by Viktor’s standards, it was incredibly efficient and easy to modify. It was from this base that Viktor’s own left hand was created.

“ _Unfortunate I could not speak to her. Knowledge about her occupation and daily life would have been beneficial. Augmentation could be modified to better suit needs. Will inquire when she awakens._ ”

With a meticulous eye, Viktor cleaned the augmentation. He examined each small joint along the fingers, testing them to make sure their movement was up to his standards. The wiring responded to the appropriate stimuli and no defects were detected. Satisfied, Viktor began the final, and most delicate part of the operation; attaching the augmentation to the woman’s nerves. This step always reaffirmed his decision to replace himself with metal. His mechanical hand never flinched, never missed, and never tired. It allowed him to accomplish tasks too delicate for most other humans and what made his augmentations the most advanced in all Zaun.

At last, the arduous task of connecting the nerves came to an end. Viktor looked over his handiwork and felt a deep sense of satisfaction. His patient was stable and could hopefully resume normal life in a matter of days. Now all that was left to do was wait for her to wake up. Viktor opened the door to the room and was about to call for Ren, but such action was not necessary. Looking down, he saw the boy. He had fallen asleep leaning against the wall by the door.

Viktor decided that aid in cleaning the operating space was not worth waking Ren. Disinfecting was a task that could be accomplished just as easily by himself. But before he left to sanitize the operating space, Viktor brought out the cleaning supplies and kneeled beside Ren. With the same gentle hand that he had used on his patient, Viktor cleaned Ren. He washed away the blood where it has spattered onto him. Though his clothes would still need a deeper cleaning, Ren’s skin was cleared and the flames painted on his augmentation were once more shining unblemished.

The atmosphere in the old building was calm. The loudest noises were Ren’s snoring and Viktor’s own footsteps. Though part of Viktor wished to return to his interrupted project, the other part simply wanted to enjoy the serenity of silence and a job well done. Giving into the temptation, Viktor brewed himself a cup of ginger tea and, for the first time that day, relaxed.


	42. Chapter 42

“Why are you so nervous, Ren?” the boy asked himself.

Ren paced in his room in a feeble attempt to work out his anxious energy. He ran his fingers through his hair and scratched at the bridge of his aquiline nose. He continued fidgeting and picking for several minutes before finally flopping back onto his chair with a sigh.

“You know why,” he kept speaking to himself, “because them accepting you again is what determines if you have lost or won. Ugh, I’d rather fight off another gang. At least that’s a problem I can solve with kicking. No use putting it off anymore. Just, Curly, Freckles, please, go easy on me.”

He gave himself a final look over in the mirror to make sure he was as clean and presentable as possible, giving extra attention to his shoulder. After he had torn his jacket to make the emergency tourniquet, he had elected not to have the sleeve sewn back on. It was as good of an excuse as he was likely to get for leaving the limb bare and his tattoo viable. Satisfied that he looked presentable, Ren grabbed a set of sketches from his table and left the room.

“Hey, Doc,” he called out, his voice echoing through the old factory, “I’m heading out. I don’t plan on getting into trouble so you don’t need to have the medical table prepared for me. Don’t worry; I’m bringing the gauntlets just in case. I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Do not do anything foolish,” Viktor, not one for needlessly shouting, responded over the intercom.

Ren shrugged. Though it sounded rude, Ren knew it was Viktor’s way of telling him to stay safe.

“I’ll try not to,” he said and then departed.

The air in Zaun was dank. It had rained the previous day and the water was still trickling down the cliff from Piltover. The streets were crowded that day, with much of Zaun’s population going out to enjoy the damp air. Though the air still smelled, the smog had been washed out from it, giving the people and their lungs a moment of respite. 

Ren took care to avoid stepping in any of the puddles, which were clouded with filth from the fallen Gray, as he made way to the Entresol level. A rainstorm guaranteed the location of the two people he was looking for. Years ago, Ren had showed Curly and Freckles an old fountain carved into the cliff’s side. It had been designed to collect rainwater after a storm to power itself. This left it dry most of the year, but the day after a storm when it was functional, it was a popular place to visit. The fountain depicted several Marai with sea life swimming around them. Ren’s favorite had always been one that had a large eel wrapped tenderly about her as though it were a long scarf.

The kids loved the fountain and Ren knew they wouldn’t miss the rare opportunity to watch it. As he had predicted, then fountain was bustling with activity when he arrived and the splash of the water could scarcely be heard over the murmur of the crowd. He looked to where the kids’ favorite Marai, one posed as though it were swimming towards the ocean floor while cradling a crab in her cupped hands, was located and spotted them. But before he could approach them, Ren felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey,” a young man asked, “you’re that twelve kid, right?”

“What,” Ren turned around, “oh, right, N-12. Yeah, that’s me.”

He smiled. Recognition was still something he was not used to and every time it happened, a thrill rushed through his body. Still, he wished he had left his name with the reporter or at least given himself a more heroic title. It felt awkward for anyone other than Viktor to refer to him as N-12.

“I knew it,” the man said, “I saw your picture in the paper. That’s a wicked augmentation. I wish I could have seen you kick the teeth out of those thugs. My brother owns a repair shop down in the Factorywood. Those bastards had been extorting him for years. So, yeah, thanks for kicking them out of there.”

The man offered his hand to shake, which Ren accepted.

“You’re welcome,” Ren said, “just trying to help how I can.”

He went to pull back his hand, but the other man kept a firm grip as he turned over his shoulder and called back to a friend.

“I told you it was him,” the man broadcasted, “get over here and thank him yourself.”

A woman the same age as the man came bounding over. From a quick glance, it was easy to tell that they were twins.

“Whoah, nice to meet ya’,” she said, taking Ren’s hand and shaking it vigorously, “our whole family is grateful for what ya’ did for our big brother, kicking out those gangsters and all, but for me, that’s not all.”

Her cheeks flushed cherry red as her smile widened. She did not stop shaking Ren’s hand.

“The woman whose arm got torn up, she’s been my friend since we were kids, maid of honor in my wedding and everything. I almost lost her, but you saved her! Thank you! You’re a hero.”

She released his hand so she could wipe away the few tears that were starting to form. By this point, the commotion was starting to attract the attention of others at the fountain. Ren gave quick look towards the kids to make sure they were still there before turning his attention back to the woman before him.

“How is she doing?” Ren asked, “I know the augmentation she received was an emergency solution. If she’s having any problems with it, Doc said he’s willing to adjust it.”

“It’s fine,” she responded, “wonderful actually. I can’t believe the quality for something that was freely given. I also can’t believe who she said the doctor was. She said Viktor was the one who operated on her. I wrote it off as delirium from blood loss, but the paper said that you were working with him. Is it true? I figured if he had worked on her she would have come back like a mindless robot or something.”

“It’s true. He augmented her. He augmented me as well, and as you can see, I’ve still got my charm and personality. No robot thoughts here,” he chuckled as he tapped his forehead.

At the mention of Viktor, the crowd around Ren grew once more.

“I don’t believe it,” a man in the voice complained, “last I heard, that creep was turning people into golems.”

“Why do people keep saying that,” Ren asked, “he’s not the most personable guy, but I would hardly call him a golem. Also, why the fear of golems? Blitzcrank is great.”

“You work with the guy and you don’t even know what he’s done,” the man replied, “do you really think Piltover would smash up his lab if it wasn’t dangerous? They usually leave us alone unless it’s serious.”

“Uh, yeah I think they would send one of their brutes down,” snapped another voice from the crowd, “have you met a Piltie? They hate seeing us succeed.”

Ren stepped between the two.

“Look, whatever the Doc did years ago, that was then,” he said, “right now, he’s trying to help people. He only wants what’s best for Zaun, and by the Sump, I’m going to prove it!”

“Yeah,” cheered the woman, “this kid has done nothing wrong. If he says that Viktor is helping him, well then he’s helping him. He saved my friend, the least I can do is believe him.”

The crowd continued to grow and Ren could no longer see where Curly and Freckles had been standing. Nor could he leave to search for them as he was being bombarded with questions from those who surrounded him.

“Okay, hero, if you and your scientist really want to help, why don’t you do something about Baron Grime’s men creeping into Promenade?”

“Do you think Viktor could replace my augmentation?”

“Did the boss of the Whumps really have one of Spindlaw’s augmentations?”

“How much would something like that cost?”

“Didn’t I see your picture somewhere?”

“Do you want me to believe that a kid did more for getting rid of that gang then a Baron’s enforcers?”

“Absolutely! Can you ignite your augmentation on demand or was that exaggerated?”

“Let me have a closer look!”

“What in Janna’s name is a moggle?”

Ren’s head spun as he tried his best to keep up with the exhausting pace of the questions. For every question he answered, another seemed to pop up. Any other day, he would have been eager to answer all their questions, but the anxious energy he had started the day with continued to grow as he tried to sneak another peak at the Marai fountain. Ren wanted to break away, leap right out of the crowd, but he couldn’t afford to look rude, so he smiled through the stress and kept talking.

“Excuse me,” asked a voice so quiet it could only just be heard over the crowd.

But to Ren, it could not have been louder. He recognized that soft voice as Curly’s. As expected, Freckles’s voice was not far behind.

“Be louder,” she told her friend, “nobody will hear you like that. Watch. Excuse us! We want to see this hero too!”

Ren looked down just as the two of the kids wedged themselves through the crowd. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes connected with theirs. The noises of the crowd faded as his attention focused.

“That’s just Ren,” Curly stated.

Freckles grabbed Curly’s hand as she looked up at Ren. There was still suspicion in her eyes. Ren knelt down to their level. Everyone else in the crowd could wait.

“Freckles, Curly,” he said, “it’s good to see you two. I’m so sorry for how I behaved the last time you saw me. Please forgive me. I panicked. I was stupid. I know you may not believe me, but I am really trying to be a hero. I know I have a lot to do to regain your trust, but please give me the chance.”

He reached into his bag and handed over the two drawings he had packed to them.

“Please.”

They looked down at the drawing. Ren had drawn himself in a heroic pose, a cheerful smile on his face, and his augmentation shining unapologetically. Curly didn’t say anything. He jumped at Ren with open arms and buried his face into Ren’s scarf. Ren hugged him closely.

“I missed you,” Curly sniffed, “I knew you weren’t a bad guy.”

“I would never want to hurt you two,” Ren said.

“I’m still mad at you,” Freckles said.

“You have every right to be,” nodded Ren.

“But you apologized, so I guess I can give you another chance.”

“Thank you.”

Ren let out a deep sigh as though he had been holding his breath for too long.

“So ya’ name is Ren,” the woman he had been speaking to earlier asked.

Now that his mind wasn’t so burdened with dread, an idea quickly sprung to it. He let Curly go and pulled himself upright before responding.

“Not quite,” he said, “you see, that’s only part of my name. You may call me ReN-12.”

He struck a pose identical to the one on the drawing he had given to the children, much to the delight of Curly. Freckles rolled her eyes, but a small smile did make its way to her lips. The adults in the crowd looked at the boy with a mixture confusion and amusement. A few even chuckled and walked away shaking their heads, but Ren didn’t care. Whether they thought of him as a fool or a naive idealist, it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t soon forget him, and that was enough.

Ren remained in the crowd a while longer, continuing to answer as many questions about himself and his scuffles as he was able to and take note of the various grievances people wanted him to resolve. He made a mental list of deeds he believed that he could accomplish so, despite his desire to thrash some Chem-baron’s goons, he knew it would be smarter to first look into more minor gangs and criminals. Beyond fighting, he knew there were other places, much like Bonnie’s apartment, that he could help.

As the crowd dwindled down and even Curly and Freckles had to leave for dinner, a few remained to ask Ren a very different set of questions. They wanted to know more about Viktor and his augmentations. They asked about being augmented themselves, having existing augmentations repaired, and what sorts of payments Viktor would accept. Not knowing how best to answer the people, Ren asked them all to write letters and return here the next day so he could deliver them to Viktor.

“It’s a few extra steps, I know,” Ren said, “but I want to respect the Doc’s privacy. He’s not much of a people person. But I promise you, he will respond to these. After you give me the letters, I will come back in a few days with his responses. Crystal?”

The group agreed and departed. Ren let out a sigh. Finally, silence. For several minutes he enjoyed the serenity of the Marai fountain, until a growl from his stomach told him that it was time to return home. He turned to leave himself, but a soft blue glow emanating from an alley caught his attention.

“So that’s how it is, huh? You’re selling people out to him?”

“Say what you want, Ekko,” Ren responded, “you’re not changing my mind.”

Ekko strode out of the unlit alley. His weapon was not drawn, but the Z-Drive was primed and ready for emergency use.

“I think you’re beyond words changing your mind,” Ekko said.

“I could say the same about you.”

The two were quiet. They stared at each other, eyes quickly darting to see if the other was reaching for his weapon.

“So what do you want?” Ren asked, breaking the silence, “I’m not going to fight you again, so if that’s what you want, you can leave.”

“I’m just watching, making sure you aren’t doing anything foolish to endanger those two.”

Ren rolled his eyes.

“Do you honestly believe I would hurt them? You know I love them as though they were family.”

“I know,” Ekko sighed. He was silent for another moment, “but I don’t want you talking to them about Viktor. They’re too young to get mixed up with that freak.”

“He’s not a danger to them.”

“Maybe not to them, but he is a danger. He tried to steal my Z-Drive, or are you conveniently forgetting that?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“But you still stick up for him?”

“Someone has to.”

More silence.

“We’re going in circles again,” Ren said, “just get back to the point you were making about the kids.”

“They’re ten, Ren. Whatever you plan on doing, leave them out of it.”

“It’s no more dangerous than the stunts you pull. You want to make Zaun a safe place for them as much as I do. Seeing us fight must confuse them. We both want the same thing.”

“Methods are the difference.”

“Ah yes, because rending time is so much safer than kicking someone with an augmented leg.”

“Cut your sarcastic tone. What I do, I do alone. I’m responsible for my actions and mine alone. You’ve gone and tacked your morality to someone who has none.”

“Look, I don’t agree with everything he has done.”

“But none of those things were deal breakers either.”

Another minute of silence.

“What if you had won?” Ren asked, “What if you beat me and threw my leg into the Sump? What then, Ekko?”

“I would have helped you. We would have gotten you another augmentation, one without any additional weapons strapped to it. Then, after you healed up and got his thoughts out of your brain, life would go on.”

“No, not for everyone. Out there, there is a woman who is alive because I brought her to Viktor. And the people in the Factorywood are safer because my augmentation has additional weapons strapped to it. If you had thrown my leg down that chasm, she would be dead and those thugs would still be extorting people. And if I had tried to fight those thugs with a plain old prosthetic, I would likely be dead as well.”

“You would have fought a gang by yourself?”

“No, I wouldn’t have. That’s the thing. I would never have done something so bold by myself before. It would only have been if you were there. But now, I can do these things. I can be bold. I can save people. You’re just one person, Ekko, an amazing person that I am so lucky to have known, but even with all the time in the world, you can’t be everywhere at once. Let me help how I can, Ekko. Judge me for what I do, not what Viktor has done”

Silence. Then, Ekko reached back and switched off the Z-Drive.

“I hate this,” Ekko said, “I hate this so much.”

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“I don’t want to fight you either, Ren. Fighting won’t change your mind and neither will words. I only hope that you will come around and see him for the monster he is.”

“And I hope you will see how much good can come from his inventions as well.”

“Doubt it,” Ekko sighed, “look, Ren, I can’t control you, but I can hope that you will see reason and not let yourself be manipulated by that man. Just know that if I think you’re too far gone to think for yourself or if you become a danger to the people of Zaun, I will fight you with every ounce of strength I have, no matter how many times it takes.”

“Crystal. Let’s hope it never comes to that.”

“Let’s hope.”

The two turned away from each other and went his own separate way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings Summoners,   
> Now that this story is up to date with the version on Fanfic.net I should let you know that the chapters won't be published in such a flurry anymore. I typically post once a month towards the beginning of the month. I invite you all to follow me over on Twitter to stay up to date on new chapters, previews, and general musings.   
> Best of the luck on the Rift,  
> -Gwoo
> 
> Link to Twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/StorytellingHy1


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